


SG-22

by ami_ven



Series: SG-22 [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Minor Injuries, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 111
Words: 52,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: The adventures of the SGC's third-contact team, SG-22, as they explore planets other teams have been to, document planets that might be interesting later, and frequently get thrown into naqudah mines by low-ranking Goa'uld. If the SGC was a high school, they'd be the weird kids...[Each chapter originally posted as a single drabble over on LiveJournal][Marked as complete, because each chapter is fairly stand-alone, but there may be more...]





	1. Not Another Naquadah Mine

**Author's Note:**

> _SG-22 is captured and thrown into a Goa’uld naquadah mine. Again._
> 
> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "action/adventure"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 is captured and thrown into a Goa’uld naquadah mine. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge "action/adventure"

Air Force Captain Igraine Gryffydd opened her eyes with a low groan, took a quick look at her surroundings, and immediately shut them again.

“Dammit,” she muttered. “Not another naquadah mine.”

Opening her eyes again, Gryffydd took inventory of herself. Her jacket, helmet and tac vest were all gone, and she had acquired the low, lingering headache she always got from ‘zat blasts.

She sat up, slowly. In the dim light, she could tell she was in a stone chamber, lit by flickering firelight from the corridor outside. Further behind her, she could see three lumps in standard SGC green beginning to stir— for some reason, Gryffydd stayed unconscious longer after getting stunned but woke up easily, while the rest of her team took longer to get their brains back in gear.

“SG-22, sound off,” she said.

The lump farthest away sat up, holding his head. “Gryff, please tell me we’re not in another naquadah mine,” said Second Lieutenant Walter Tobias.

“No can do, Toby,” she replied.

“Ow,” said another voice, belonging to sociologist Dr. Levi Flannigan. “I think I lost my glasses.”

“No, I’ve got ‘em,” put in Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks. 

“Thanks,” said Levi, and put them on before blinking at the walls around him. “ _Another_ naquadah mine?”

“Yeah,” said Gryffydd, getting carefully to her feet.

“But, come on!” said Levi. “This is the third time this year we’ve been knocked out and thrown into a naquadah mine! And it’s April!”

“Actually,” Tobias added, “in the last two years, we’ve spent three months and eighteen days doing forced labor in nine separate naquadah mines.”

“Really?” asked Gryffydd, distracted from her survey of the chamber.

“Oh, god,” Levi muttered.

“You really keep track—” Vicks began, but was cut off by the sound of clanking armor.

Three Jaffa serpent guards entered the chamber, all bearing the points-down crescent moon symbol of Hecate, a very minor Goa’uld with more ambition than brains.

“Hey, guys,” said Gryffydd, to the Jaffa. “We’re booked into the Presidential Suite, so if you could just grab our luggage…”

The butt of the staff weapon that hit her ribs was not unexpected, but Gryffydd let out an exaggerated gasp and clutched at her side.

“Silence!” the lead Jaffa yelled. “You are now slaves of the Mighty Hecate! You will work to serve her, or you will die.”

“Do you boys have a script?” Gryffydd asked. “Because that is word-for-word the same speech we got the last time her Jaffa captured—”

The second blow hit nearer to her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her, but she stayed on her feet.

“You will come with me,” the Jaffa snapped.

Tobias slid a hand under Gryffydd’s elbow. “Someday,” he murmured, “you’re gonna learn to keep your mouth shut.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” she wheezed.

The Jaffa led them to the entrance of a long rough-worked tunnel, where a dozen humans in various styles of now-ragged clothing were mining carts full of naquadah ore, and more of Hecate’s Jaffa stood guard.

“You will work, or you will die,” the head guard said again, and they left.

Gryffydd sighed. “Come on, boys, we know the drill…”

Eight hours later, Gryffydd was very glad she’d never been overly concerned with her appearance. Every inch of her was covered in gritty mud— even her usually-bright copper hair was a matted dull brown— and underneath, she could feel at least four separate bruises forming. 

She accepted a bowl of gray mush from the Jaffa guard with the ‘dinner’ pot, and joined the rest of her team in a corner of the barracks building. “Report,” she said, taking care not to move too much as she sat.

“The tunnels are only about two hundred meters in any direction,” said Tobias, softly. “Ore is taken directly through the stargate, fifty meters from the mine entrance and the barracks.”

“There’s fifteen guards, sir,” said Vicks, next. “And the three who ‘escorted’ us in seem to be the highest-ranking, even if none of them is the First Prime. Roughly fifty prisoners, all at least working fit.”

“I counted at least eight different languages, “ Levi put in. “Everyone I spoke to today was a warrior, or some kind of fighter. It seems like Hecate likes forced labor as the punishment for enemy combatants. Which kind of explains why Gryff is the only woman in the mines.”

“Lucky me,” said Gryffydd. “Toby, how heavily guarded is the ‘gate?”

“Medium?” he ventured. “The carts of ore are taken right through, so there’s at least four guards within sight of it at all times.”

She frowned. “Any word on our gear?”

“Actually, yes,” said Levi. “One of the people I spoke to said that anything the Jaffa took— weapons, armor, you know— are kept in their headquarters.”

“Which happens to be the next building over,” said Vicks. “Nice.”

“Do we try a night run?” asked Tobias.

Gryffydd took a deep breath, weighing the options. “No,” she decided. “Not without seeing the guards’ night shift. We’ll make our move tomorrow morning, after breakfast.”

Levi frowned into his bowl of mush. “You want another meal of this?” he asked. “Because that’s always what’s for breakfast.”

She grinned. “C’mon, it’s almost, but not quite, entirely unlike food.”

“Then you have a plan, sir?” asked Vicks.

“Yep,” said Gryffydd. “There’s going to be a riot.”

“Seriously?” asked Levi.

“I’m from Philadelphia. We’re really good at riots.”

Tobias shook his head. “Well, it’s worked before. So we’d better get some sleep.”

Gryff woke at dawn to an arm thrown over her waist, three more feet tangled up with hers, and four of her hairpins trying to stab her in the skull. She’d bunked with her team enough times not to worry about the first two, and sitting up took care of the last one.

“Boys,” she said, poking the nearest shoulder she could reach. “Up and at ‘em.”

“Wazzat?” mumbled Levi, but Gryffydd smacked him again.

“Flannigan, you’re with me,” she said. “Tobias, Vicks, you’ll need to be the distraction.”

The lieutenant and the gunny looked at each other. “Fistfight?” Vicks suggested.

“And knock over the cook pot,” added Tobias.

“Great,” said Gryffydd. “Levi, c’mon.”

No sooner had she and the cultural specialist moved to the other side of the crowd lining up for breakfast, than they heard a loud argument begin. Gryffydd caught a glimpse of standard-issue black t-shirt before one of her teammates went crashing into the large cooking pot and all hell broke loose.

Gryffydd ducked under the sudden mash of bodies, grabbed Levi’s arm on her way through, and slipped out the door. Outside, they stuck to the shadows, barely managing to dive behind the Jaffa guards’ headquarters as the door burst open and they all came charging out.

“That’s all of them, Gryff,” Levi told her.

She nodded. “Keep watch.”

Their gear was piled haphazardly in a corner of the headquarters— Gryffydd pulled on her tac vest, stuffed the other three into their owner’s packs, then threw the packs over one shoulder. She paused, then doubled-back to snag a staff weapon from the rack against the wall.

“Let’s go,” she said, pushing Levi’s pack into his arms.

The fistfight Tobias and Vicks had quickly turned into a fight between the workers and the guards— but the humans had scrounged up some weapons, and it was anyone’s game.

Gryffydd, rounding the corner, raised her stolen staff weapon and blasted the guards’ leader square in the chest. “Tobias,” she called over the din, “Dial us home.”

He grabbed his pack on his way passed her, snagging Levi as he went. Vicks appeared at her side, cheerfully trading his makeshift club for his nine-milimeter.

“ _Tobias to Gryffydd_ ,” said a voice over her radio. “ _‘Gate’s clear— repeat, ‘gate is clear._

“Copy that,” said Gryffydd. “Everybody! To the ‘gate!”

Tobias already had a wormhole established and was sending their IDC when Gryffydd arrived. She and Vicks kept up a steady stream of cover fire, both staff weapon and Earth bullets, as the liberated miners raced through.

“Gryff!” shouted Tobias. “That’s everyone!”

“Jason, go,” said Gryffydd. She aimed her staff weapon at the ground, sending up a spray of dirt, and almost fell backward through the ‘gate.

She regained her footing on the ramp, the sudden silence ringing in her ears after the firefight.

“Captain Gryffydd,” said General Hammond’s voice, from the Control Room, “report.”

“All accounted for, sir!” she called up. “No casualties, no major injuries. How long were we gone?”

“Twenty-seven hours,” said Jack O’Neill, coming into the ‘Gate Room. “A new record, Gryff.”

Gryffydd grinned. “Nice. And, sir?” she added, to Hammond. “Can I keep the staff weapon this time?”

The general laughed. “We’ll see, captain.”


	2. Captain & Sergeant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a reason that Jason calls Gryff ‘sir’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "timey wimey stuff" (set before/after another story)

Newly-minted Air Force Captain Igraine Gryffydd wasn’t sure what she had done in a past life to get her assigned as secretary/aide de camp/general lackey to General Paul Rodriguez, but it must have been _awful_.

When she’d gotten the orders, she’d thought it was going to be a step up in her career, to go along with her promotion in rank and the move from file clerk to the head of a general’s personal staff. But the reality was a run-down office building on the outer edge of the occupied zone in Kabul, Afghanistan, and a self-important commanding officer whose staff consisted of a perpetually-nervous young sergeant and an airman who had been refused promotion half a dozen times but seemed unable to take the hint. Gryff did her best, as always, but it seemed that she spent half her time running useless errands and fielding calls about why nothing in their area ever seemed to get done and the other half trying to keep her hard-working but usually non-regulation staff from their CO’s attention.

“Captain!” bellowed Rodriguez, from his office.

Gryff saved the report she’d been typing and headed for his door. “Yes, sir?”

He held out a file, not even looking at her. “Have this sent to General Alderfer by tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rodriguez never called her by name. Gryff was sure he hadn’t actually noticed that his previous secretary had been sent back to the States, as long as somebody responded to that rank and continued to do his bidding. But that suited her just fine— hopefully, he wouldn’t notice when _she_ got a better assignment, hopefully in a less-sunny part of the world.

The phone rang, and Gryff answered it. Less than a minute later, she was back in Rodriguez’s doorway. “Sir,” she said, “we’ve been ordered to evacuate.”

He looked up at her. “Evacuate, captain?”

“There’s a group of insurgents headed this way, sir. The Marine platoon assigned to this area says they’ve set several buildings on fire, and they probably have heavy artillery, as well. All nonessential personnel have been ordered to relocate to Admiral Forester at the main headquarters.” She paused a moment, and when Rodriguez didn’t say anything, she added, “Sir?”

The general scowled. “Nonessential personnel, captain, does not include me. This office is one of the most essential and secure places in this entire godforsaken hellhole, and we will not be evacuated for something as ridiculous as some irate locals with popguns.”

Their office was neither essential nor secure, and the last she’d heard, the insurgents were not that local and better armed than most Army units, but Gryff knew better than to tell _him_ that.

“Yes, sir,” she said, instead, and closed the door behind her.

Sergeant Cole and Airman Manning looked up at her, questioning. Gryff knew what Rodriguez had meant, that he expected his entire staff to stay until he dismissed them. But he’s only said ‘we’, with only himself and Gryff in the room, and she could choose to interpret that differently.

“Both of you are to report to Admiral Forester,” she said, “at the Navy office, main headquarters.”

Cole frowned. “The general ordered that?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gryff lied. “Get there quickly, don’t stop anywhere in between. Report to the admiral and do whatever he says.”

For a moment, it looked like they would argue, then Manning said, “Yes, ma’am,” and they left.

Gryff sank into her desk chair with a sigh. She tuned the radio on her desk to the lowest volume and the general frequency, waiting.

*

Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks followed the rest of his unit down another deserted street. There were several military offices in this neighborhood and they were all supposed to have been evacuated, but the Marines had to make sure.

“Clear,” said Walker, ducking back out of a building along the street. Bernetti came out of the next one down, “Clear.”

The building on the corner was an Air Force office, where Jason could see the glow of a computer monitor in an upstairs window. “Looks like somebody’s still home,” said the lieutenant. “Albertson, Vicks, Kransky, check it out.”

The first floor was only an entranceway, with a series of bulletin boards and a single set of stairs leading up. Jason kept his gun at the ready as he followed Kranksy up, listening hard, but he couldn’t see any signs of life. At the top of the stairs, a door opened into an open space with three empty desks. The computers were powered down, and there wasn’t anybody in sight.

“Is that an office?” Albertson asked, just as the stutter of machine gun fire sounded from outside, much too close for the three Marines’ liking.

“I’ll check the office,” said Jason, looking back at the other two. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Albertson looked like he wanted to argue, but he clapped Jason’s shoulder. “Five minutes?”

“Not even that.”

He and Kransky headed back down the stairs, and Jason made a careful sweep of the empty office. It was clear.

A sudden clatter made him raise his gun, and burst through the door to the far office. “U.S. Marines!”

“U.S. Air Force,” said the woman standing behind the large wooden desk. She wore a captain’s rank on her dress uniform, with a battered leather satchel over one shoulder, into which she was stacking papers from an open wall safe. “Are they getting close out there?”

Jason blinked. “Ma’am,” he said, a little more sharply than he’d intended, coming around the side of the desk, “there was an evacuation order—”

“Stop!” the woman cried.

Jason froze, only just missing the body of an older man in an Air Force uniform lying on the floor. “What the hell? Is he—?”

“He’s dead,” said the captain, heavily. “Heart attack, I think. I tried to help, but I… I’m not a doctor.”

She turned, fastening the clasp on her bag, and Jason could read the name plate on her jacket, something unpronounceable that thought ‘y’ was a vowel.

“Ma’am,” he repeated. “There was an evacuation order.”

“Yes, there was,” the captain agreed. “And General Rodriguez believed that his office was too essential to obey it. But as I am now the senior officer here, I’m ordering the evacuation. You have plenty of bullets in that thing?”

Jason blinked again. “Ma’am—”

“They’re getting closer, right? The insurgents? I need to secure this place before we go. I’ve got all the general’s classified files, and I’ve scrambled the radio frequencies, but I need you to put a couple of bullets in each of these CPUs.”

“I— Yes, ma’am.”

His radio crackled. “ _Vicks, report._ ”

Jason stepped away. “The office building has two occupants, sir. One is deceased, one is uninjured. We are securing the office and will be able to rejoin the unit in a few minutes.”

“ _Negative_ ,” said the lieutenant. “ _Our position has been compromised, six blocks from your location. Stay with the officer and get him back to headquarters. That’s an order._ ”

Outside, the sounds of gunfire were almost too far away to be heard. “Yes, sir,” said Jason, and shut off his radio. He turned back to the office, “Captain—”

“Yes, yes, I heard,” she said, “Fire at the black marker crosses, please.”

Jason took a deep breath and reminded himself that she was a superior officer. He put six clean shots into the computer tower, then four more into the three in the room outside. With a smile, she gestured for him to lead the way downstairs, but Jason had only just stepped out into the street when he was grabbed by the back of his tac vest and hauled him backwards. Jason stumbled back, ready to growl at her, superior officer or not, when a shot ricocheted off the doorframe beside them.

“Are you armed?” he asked, instead.

The captain snorted. “I’m a secretary, sergeant.”

Jason handed her his pistol, which she took carefully. He leaned back out of the doorway to fire back at their attacker. He heard a cry and the crack of a fallen weapon, and gave the captain a nudge toward the other end of the street. “This way, ma’am.”

*

Counting today, Gryff had held a loaded firearm a total of three times and until now, no one had ever been shooting back.

She followed the Marine— his name started with a V, according to his name patch, but she couldn’t read the rest of it— down the street. Behind them, there was a sudden _boom_ , and Gryff looked back to see her office building burst into flame.

Gryff’s hand went to her shirt pocket, where she had General Rodriguez’s dog tags. She might not have liked the man, but his family deserved to have them.

Her Marine escort led them down another side street, trying different frequencies on his radio. “Nothing,” he said.

“Then we have to assume they’ve been compromised,” said Gryff. “And get back to headquarters on our own. Were there many enemy units between here and there?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Keep up.”

*

The captain was out of breath by the end of three blocks, but she didn’t fall behind. They ran into two more firefights after that— she was a bad enough shot that Jason didn’t think she’d hit anyone, but not so bad that he regretted giving her a gun.

It was just starting to get dark when they took a shortcut through an empty market, and stopped to make sure they had shaken their pursuit. The captain plopped onto an empty crate, breathing hard, and started rooting through her pockets, coming up with a lumpy package.

“Want one?” she asked.

They were root beer barrels, and he took one, smiling. “I’m Vicks, by the way. Jason Vicks.”

The captain smiled back. “Igraine Gryffydd.” She pronounced both Ys as short Is and the double D as a TH, but winced at her first name. “I know, it’s horrible. Who would name their kid _Igraine_? Most people just call me Gryff.”

“That’s King Arthur’s mom, right?”

She looked pleasantly surprised. “Not many people know that.”

“Hey, we’re not all dumb grunts.”

The captain laughed. “True.” She paused, listening. “I think we’re okay. We should keep moving.”

Jason glanced sideways at her. Unlike him, she wasn’t dressed for this— her uniform was wrinkled and dirty, and there was a bloody tear in the knee of her dress pants that he was surprised to realize he hadn’t noticed before.

“Ma’am,” he said, with a lot more respect than he’d been using up to that point. Because he could have been stuck with some other zoomie officer, who whined and moaned and expected him to do everyone, but he’d gotten this one instead. “Your knee…?”

“My…?” she glanced down, then rolled her eyes. “I’ve done worse tripping over my own feet. Come on.”

*

Even later, Gryff had no idea how she’d spotted the second shooter. She’d been half a step behind Vicks when he’d dropped the first man shooting at them, and she’d simply _reacted_.

She saw the flash of the gun going off as her shoulder collided with the side of the Marine’s tac vest, knocking them both backward. There was a closer flash of Vicks’s own weapon as he returned fire, then the shock of them hitting the ground. Gryff felt the breath knocked out of her as they hit, then a sharp pain she thought was Vicks’s elbow hitting her ribs.

“Ma’am?” he said, sounding worried.

Gryff didn’t have enough breath to speak, but she nodded, sitting up with a wince. She heard the sound of running feet and looked up just in time to see a unit of Marines race into the alley behind them.

“Vicks!” cried the first man, a Marine lieutenant. “We’d just about given up on you.”

“Never, sir,” Vicks replied.

Gryff took the hand he offered to pull herself to her feet, but the world tilted suddenly and he had to catch her. “Oh,” she breathed.

“Ma’am?” he asked. 

She put a hand to her ribs, to ease the ache where his elbow had hit her, and it came away bloody. “Oh,” she repeated. “Well, that’s not good.”

“Ma’am?” Vicks repeated, voice getting fainter, even though it sounded like he should have been shouting. “Ma’am? Captain? _Sir_?”

“I’m okay,” she tried to say, but she wasn’t sure she’d gotten it all out before everything went dark.

*

Jason crossed the open deck of the C4-Galaxy to the cot up against the far bulkhead, a battered satchel clutched in both hands. “Hey,” he said.

The captain, sitting cross-legged on the cot, smiled at him. “Hey. You don’t need to look so worried, sergeant. The doc says it was the cleanest shot he’s seen. I didn’t even need any stitches.”

“Still, it looked bad,” said Jason. “But I wanted to give you this.”

“Oh, my satchel!” Gryffydd took it, popping it open to rifle through the folders inside. “All here, good,” she said, then offered a sly smile. “You didn’t peek, did you?”

“No, sir!” said Jason, indignant.

She arched an eyebrow. “Sir?”

“I…” he said, then sighed. He didn’t know exactly how to explain it. “Yes, sir.”

To his surprise, Gryffydd smiled. “Thank you. But do you know what?”

“What, sir?” he asked.

She slid over on the cot. “I’ve been shot, that gives me some leeway, right? I’m going to read these. Want to join me?”

“I—” Jason began. He looked toward the rear of the cargo hold, where the rest of his unit were all sitting. “Absolutely, sir.”

She held out an innocuous-looking manila folder. “Good. Now, let’s find out what this ‘Stargate Program’ is all about…”


	3. Burdens of Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryffydd does whatever is needed to protect her team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "leader" & "cold comfort"

It was their third mission as a team, and Gryffydd had gotten them captured.

Well, all right, maybe there hadn’t actually been anything she could have done about it— the Jaffa had surrounded them, six-to-one, and ‘zatted all four of them before they could get off more than a few rounds.

So, now they were trapped in a naquadah mine on one of Hecate’s planets (Roman goddess of the Underworld/very minor Goa’uld) with no weapons, no gear, and no way home.

“You will work or you will die,” the Jaffa guard told them.

“Right,” said Gryffydd. “Just one question. Is this a union gig?”

That had earned her a staff-weapon to the gut and the mark of troublemaker, but Gryffydd didn’t mind. Because if the guards were concentrating on her, then they _wouldn’t_ be paying that much attention to her team. Of course, it was slightly less of a great plan two days and three bruised-and-possibly-broken ribs later, not to mention the split lip she kept re-injuring that made it difficult to eat even the tasteless mush they were fed.

But her team was safe, that was the important part, Gryffydd reminded herself, as she ignored the dull throb of her ribs. Getting hurt didn’t matter as long as she got her boys home.

And when they finally found a way to get back to Earth, she was the last one through the ‘gate.


	4. Cold & Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi didn’t think anyone would really miss him, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "snow and ice" & "abandonment"

It was cold. Really, really cold.

As a linguist, Levi thought he should probably be able to come up with a better word, but his brain just wouldn’t cooperate.

Cold.

Levi pulled his jacket tighter around himself, trying to protect his fingers and neck from the wind. It had been a beautiful fall day when they’d arrived on PX-744, with a pleasant bite to the air which didn’t even hint that a massive blizzard was on the way. The storm had come out of nowhere, wind whipping the snow so hard that Levi could barely see. He had thought he was right behind Jason, headed back to the ‘gate, but then he’d looked up and discovered he was alone. Startled, his foot had caught on something and he tumbled, losing his pack along the way, to land at the bottom of a shallow ravine. He didn’t think anything was broken, but his ankle throbbed when he tried to stand, and he decided to stay put. At least, it wasn’t as windy here.

But it was still cold.

Snow gathered around him as Levi huddled against an outcropping in the rocky hill. The rest of SG-22 had probably made it back to the SGC by now. Maybe, when the storm ended, they’d send someone to look for him.

Really, really cold.

Maybe the storm wouldn’t end, and maybe no one was coming. Levi could almost understand if they didn’t. He wasn’t all that important, in the grand scheme of things. A storm like this could last for hours, maybe days. They couldn’t risk another team in weather like this just to find him.

Cold, so cold.

Levi didn’t think anyone would really miss him, anyway. There was probably a reason he’d spent less than forty-eight hours on SGs 2 through 21 before SG-22 had decided to keep him. But they were the last numbered team, so they probably hadn’t had much choice in scientists. Gryff would probably say something nice at his memorial, though. Toby and Jason would be there, too, standing by her side, and they’d tell his mother it had been an honor to serve with him, because they were noble that way. He wished he could thank them for that. Levi hoped SG-22’s next scientist could handle himself in the field better, for the next time they got thrown into a naquadah mine. He’d never been able to pull his own weight, but his team had never held it against him. He wished he could thank them for that, too.

Funny, it didn’t seem so cold anymore.

The wind howled, swirling snow all around him.

“Levi!” And now he was hearing things. “Levi!” Did the wind sound like Gryff because he’d been thinking of her? “Levi!” And like Toby and Jason, too. “Levi!” They were all back on Earth, of course, but it was nice to hear their voices, even if they were in his head.

“ _Levi!_ ”

Suddenly, there was a scrabbling sound from behind him, and a figure appeared out of the darkness. “Levi, thank god. Here! Boys, he’s here!”

“G-Gryff?” Levi croaked.

She knelt beside him and put her hands to his face, hot enough to burn. “My god, he’s frozen. Jason, get in here!”

The Marine pressed in beside them, radiating heat, and Levi closed his eyes. “Hey, Lee, no falling asleep,” said Jason.

Levi blinked. Jason was looking down at him, concern written all over his face. Nearby, Gryff and Toby were clearing away the snow and pulling a silver emergency blanket around the bunch of them.

“W-what are y-you d-doing here?” he managed.

Toby looked up from trying to rearrange four sets of legs. “You disappeared, Lee. Do you have any idea how scared we were?”

“S-scared?” His brain was speeding up, but that still wasn’t saying much. “B-but you went b-back to Earth.”

“Of course we didn’t!” said Gryff. “Not without you.”

“He must be delusional, sir,” added Jason, still warm and solid at Levi’s side, “if he thinks we’d leave him behind.”

Levi pressed his nose against Jason’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he breathed.

His teammates pulled him in tighter. “You’re _ours_ , Levi,” said Gryff, as if that was reason to brave a blizzard without any winter gear for one lost sociologist.

But as their warmth seeped into him, not just from their body heat, but from their concern, he thought that maybe for them, it was.


	5. All for One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 was the only team with a single Marine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "Marine"

There were plenty of Marines in the SGC. Most were part of the large contingent, back-up teams and special forces. A couple of SG teams were entirely Marines, but most teams had no Marines at all.

SG-22 was the only team with a single Marine.

Usually, Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks didn’t mind that. His team wasn’t on the frontlines— they were most often assigned to escort scientists, continue communications with ally worlds, or document potential scientific sites— and he was more than happy to be the ‘brawn’ to his teammates’ brains.

But, at the moment, his brawn wasn’t doing him any good. Vicks was strung up by his wrists, feet barely touching the floor, in a Goa’uld dungeon. Only this one seemed to be located along the building’s main corridor, so passersby could get a good look at him through the heavy grate.

Vicks kept still, not acknowledging how much his wrists were starting to hurt. He was a Marine. He could endure much worse than this. And at least his team was safe.

Still, an awful part of his brain couldn’t help pointing out that if he’d been on one of the Marine teams, he might not have been captured. If he didn’t have to worry about two Zoomie officers and a civilian, he might have seen that stun blast coming.

Sudden movement in the previously-quiet corridor caught his attention. A single Jaffa guard led two priestesses, wearing thick cloaks over their jeweled gowns. Another Jaffa appeared from the opposite direction. His helmet was down, and he was frowning.

“You are not authorized—” he began, but one of the priestesses darted forward. Vicks caught a flash of copper hair as she drew back her hood and pulled a ‘zat from the folds of her gown, stunning the Jaffa before he could raise the alarm.

“Jase, you okay?” the priestess asked, while their escort Jaffa opened his cell.

“Sir?” He blinked, but under the heavy makeup (including a drawn-on Jaffa ‘tattoo’) it was Captain Igraine Gryffydd, his commanding officer. She released his manacles, checking him for injuries while he rubbed his wrists.

“Toby, take the door,” she told the conscious guard— who had to be her second, Lieutenant Tobias. “Jason, you good?”

He nodded. “How—?”

The second priestess dragged the fallen Jaffa fully into the cell. She began removing the armor, which she collected and brought over to them. “Here.”

Vicks blinked twice at her— _him_. “Levi?”

The sociologist wore the same gown and makeup as their CO. “Put this on, Jason,” he said. “And hurry up. This dress itches.”

Levi helped him into the armor, while Gryffydd produced an eyebrow pencil and drew on his forehead tattoo.

“Jase, I know you’re hurt,” she said. “But you’ve got to make this look convincing if we’re gonna make it back out of here.”

Vicks straightened under the heavy armor. “Yes, sir. I’m a Marine.”

“I know,” said Gryffydd, smiling. “Helmets and hoods up. Let’s move out.”

Vicks’s back ached, but he held himself straight, keeping pace with his team.

If he had belonged to a Marine unit, he might not have been captured. But if he didn’t have two Air Force officers and a civilian worrying about him, he might not have gotten rescued.

And certainly not in this kind of style.


	6. Four Times SG-22 Didn’t Get Thrown into a Naquadah Mine #1 (Or, That Time the Boys Got Turned into Toddlers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sir,” said Gryffydd, “this _is_ my team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt " ~~five~~ four times #1"

One of these days, Captain Igraine Gryffydd thought to herself, she was going to end a mission without being rendered unconscious. Just once.

For a moment, she contemplated just staying down— the planet they’d been surveying had been declared uninhabited by SG-6, and the silence indicated she really didn’t have a reason to get up— only for the split second before she remembered her teammates.

“SG-22, report!” she snapped, even as she sat up.

That turned out to be a bad idea, and her head throbbed painfully. “Ow!” Gryffydd said. “What the hell did we—?”

She broke off as she finally took in the sight of the ruins they’d been cataloguing— and the three small boys lying on the ground, wearing miniature SGC uniforms.

“Well… crap.”

*

“Incoming wormhole,” reported the sergeant on duty. “Receiving SG-22’s IDC.”

“Open the iris,” Hammond ordered.

The metal barrier slid away, and the event horizon shone brightly blue for a moment before four figures walked calmly down the ‘gate ramp. The first was clearly Captain Gryffydd, with two standard-issue packs over one shoulder and a toddler-sized child on the other hip. Two more kids clung to her free hand and the fabric of her BDU pants.

“Sir,” she said, glancing up at the Control Room with something very much like a wince. “We’ve got a problem.”

Hammond leaned closer to the microphone. “Captain, who are these children? Where is your team?”

“Sir,” she said again. “This _is_ my team.”

*

“She’s right, sir,” said Janet Fraiser, studying the computer print-outs before holding them out to Hammond. “The DNA is a complete match, for all three of them. Lieutenant Tobias, Gunnery Sergeant Vicks and Doctor Flannigan are perfectly healthy three-year-old boys.”

They both looked over to where SG-22 sat on the examination table, Gryffydd in the middle, with mini-Levi in her lap and the other two close at her side as she read them the words on Janet’s medical posters.

“And we have no idea what did this?” Hammond asked.

“Sam and Daniel are going over the photographs and video Gryff brought back from the planet,” she replied. “Dr. Flannigan was recording when the… incident happened, but there seems to be no immediate cause. They weren’t touching anything, no beams of light, that sort of thing.”

“Then there’s nothing to do but wait?”

Janet sighed. “For now? I suppose not.”

“Thank you, doctor,” said Hammond, and crossed to stand beside the examination table. “Captain?”

She straightened as best she could. “Yes, sir?”

“Your head is shiny,” said mini-Tobias.

“Toby!” Gryffydd said, sharply.

“Thorry,” mini-Tobias mumbled.

“It’s all right, son,” Hammond said, smiling. “Dr. Fraiser says your boys are perfectly healthy.”

Gryffydd slid off the table. “Can you three sit here for a minute?” she asked. “I need to talk to the general right over there, where you can see us.”

“Okay, Gryff,” said mini-Levi.

“Sir, what am I going to do with them?” Gryffydd asked, as soon as they were out of earshot. “I can’t keep them on base, and I definitely can’t take them back to The Frat House.”

‘The Frat House’ was their joking name for the two-story house the four members of SG-22 had bought together in the suburbs of Colorado Springs. It was essentially a bachelor pad, if not a little cleaner since they were hardly there, and absolutely _not_ child-proof.

“Then you want to keep them with you?” Hammond asked. “I’m sure we could find someone else—”

“No!” she said, then added, “sir. They’re my team, sir, no matter how old they are.”

The general nodded. “I understand. It’s after lunch hours— I’ll tell the mess to make up some sandwiches. You can keep them there until I’ve made arrangements.”

“Yes, sir. And, sir? Thank you.”

He smiled. “Don’t thank me yet.”

The cook on afternoon duty brought them a plate of sandwiches, and Gryffydd set about pouring cups of juice, cutting off crusts and trying to figure out her mini-team.

Mini-Tobias, it turned out, wanted to be called ‘Wally’, and spoke with a lisp that Gryffydd wouldn’t tell him she found adorable. Mini-Levi talked twice as much as his adult self, which was saying something, and mini-Vicks didn’t talk _at all_ — the most Gryffydd had gotten out of him was “Jason, ma’am,” when she’d asked what he wanted to be called, so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

None of them had asked why they were there, or why Gryffydd was looking after them, or asked for their parents. She didn’t know if that was a side effect of what had happened to them, but she wasn’t about to complain now. If they were lucky, Sam and Daniel would find a way to reverse it, and she’d have her grown-up team back soon.

She hoped.

“Ma’am?” asked the sergeant who usually operated the ‘gate. “General Hammond asked me to tell you that everything’s ready, and you can leave when you’re done eating.”

Gryffydd smiled. “Thank you, sergeant.”

‘Everything’ turned out to be a sedan from the motor pool with three car seats in the back, and an escort to a two-bedroom apartment in a quiet neighborhood. 

“You’re all set, Gryff,” said Dave Dixon, who she knew had kids about this age himself and who had been supervising the airmen now packing up their tools. “You’ve got three little beds, one big one, clothes and toys, and enough peanut butter and juice boxes to last for a couple of weeks.”

“Thanks, Dave,” she said, taking the key he handed her.

“Hey,” he said, “Jackson and Carter are the best eggheads we have. They’ll figure this out.”

It was dark by the time she got her three small teammates into the apartment, wrangled into their pajamas and tucked into bed, but Gryffydd didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

She still woke up early the next morning, early enough to have a cup of coffee before she heard little feet in the hall, and receive an e-mail from the SGC that nothing had been found. It was the same every morning after that— another e-mail with no news, then breakfast and (for Gryffydd) enough coffee to fortify her for their trip to the local park.

Surprisingly, being temporary parent to three little boys wasn’t as hard as she’d thought. There were a few mishaps, of course, like the time Levi had run up to her at the playground, wheezing, and she’d called Janet in a panic, only to remember Levi had been asthmatic as a kid and have him breath into a paper bag. Or when she’d had to fix a leaky sink and left her toolbox out, then came back to find Wally and Jason having a sword fight with two of her heavy wrenches.

Gryffydd was starting to think she might not be so bad at this temporary parenting thing when she woke suddenly in the middle of the night, feeling like Miss Clavel from the _Madeline_ picture books. “Something is not right,” she murmured, and headed for the boys’ room.

Levi was in the bed against the far wall, arms tight around his teddy bear. Wally was in the middle, sprawled on his back just like when he was older. And Jason had the bed closest to the door, completely cocooned in the covers. As an adult, she realized, he’d picked the bedroom right at the top of the stairs, and when they bunked somewhere new, he always chose the place nearest the point of entry— his protective streak must have started early.

Gryffydd had almost turned to leave when she realized the lump of blankets was shaking slightly.

She crouched beside the bed and peeled back the covers. “Hey, buddy,” she said. “What’s the matter?”

Jason blinked at her through tear-filled eyes, then launched himself forward into her arms. Gryffydd caught him automatically, tucking his head against her shoulder and heading back out to the living room.

“Hey, hey,” she said, rubbing a hand up and down his small spine. “You just let it out, kiddo.”

“R-real men aren’t s’posed to cry,” he hiccupped, sounding like he was repeated something heard often.

“Of course they are,” she said, soft but firm. “Real men aren’t ashamed of their feelings. You feel sad, Jason, you go ahead and cry.”

Small arms tightened around her neck. “I love you, Gryff,” he said.

“Love you, too, Jase,” she said.

Gryffydd had only just fallen asleep, propped up in her own bed with Jason still in her arms, when her phone rang.

“Wha’zzat?” the boy asked, sleepily.

“Phone,” she said, and answered it, “Gryffydd.”

“ _Gryff!_ ” said Sam Carter’s voice. “ _We’ve got it! Get your boys back to the SGC, ASAP!_ ”

In a flurry of sleepy questions and little shoes, Gryffydd managed to get them dressed and back to Cheyenne Mountain. SG-1 was geared up and ready to go with then, though the flagship team stopped at the ‘gate.

“We think it’s best if you take them alone,” Daniel told her.

“See you on the other side,” said Jack.

Gryffydd gave him a mock-salute, and led her team back into the ruins.

*

“Gryff? Gryff, c’mon, wake up!” 

She blinked, then focused on the three faces above her. The three _adult_ faces.

“You’re back to normal!” she cried, sitting up.

Tobias pulled her to her feet, then right off them again as he spun her in an enthusiastic circle. “I am so glad I can do this again,” he said, setting her back down. “I’ll go tell the others we’re back.”

Levi kissed her cheek. “You’re the best, Gryff,” he told her, and started after Tobias.

“Sir?” asked Vicks, softly. “I just…”

She smiled. “How much do you remember?”

“Nothing solid,” he admitted. “It’s sort of fuzzy, like my first memories of being three. But I do remember… I mean…”

“Jason Vicks,” she said, “I am so proud of the man you’ve become, and I am even prouder to have you as a member of my team.”

Gryffydd only had a split-second view of his beaming smile before he pulled her into a hug. “I will never forget this, Gryff,” he said, using the nickname he only rarely called her. “Never.”

She hugged him back. “Me, neither.”


	7. Four Times SG-22 Didn’t Get Thrown into a Naquadah Mine #2 (Or, That Time the Natives Threw a Party and Got Them All Stoned)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of SG-22 participate in an alien festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt " ~~five~~ four times #2"

Air Force First Lieutenant Walter Tobias kept both hands loosely on his P-90 as his team made their way toward the village on P8X-241.

It was a beautiful planet, a lot like his home state of Michigan in the spring, with wide grassy fields edged with rustling trees and a gentle breeze that carried the scent of wildflowers. Some kind of birds were singing, strange songs that Tobias didn’t recognize, and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sunshine.

“Hey, Toby, no falling asleep on me.”

He opened his eyes again to look sideways at Captain Igraine Gryffydd, leader of SG-22. Like him, she wore the standard uniform and tac vest, but she had her braided orange hair under one of the helmets most ‘gate teams had stopped wearing.

“Just basking in the sunshine,” he told her, smiling. “Remind me to thank SG-9 for this when we get back.”

“Yeah, sir,” chimed in Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks. “We definitely got the best end of this deal.”

Sociologist Dr. Levi Flannigan frowned. “But they all got that nasty head cold that was going around, Gryff, and we get to take their place in the Hunari festival of— Oh.”

She grinned. “I knew you’d figure it out, Lee.”

“How much farther is the village?” he asked.

“Just a little farther,” said Vicks. “Sir, you’re _sure_ there’s nothing about the Hunari we’re supposed to watch out for?”

Gryffydd snorted. “I knew you fell asleep during Dr. Leonard’s presentation,” she said, then added quickly, “No, nothing like that. SG-9 made three visits here, negotiating trade of some kind of medicinal herb. They’ll be back once they’re cleared for ‘gate travel again, but they’d already promised they— or rather now, we— would participate in the local arts festival.”

“And we’re just here for the festival,” added Tobias. “No ruins to catalogue, no scientists to babysit, no naquadah to mine…”

“Don’t even joke about that, sir,” Vicks muttered.

They rounded a group of trees and the village came into view. It looked like nothing so much as a Renaissance fair, minus the souvenir stands. A man in a vibrantly-embroidered tunic spotted them and hurried over.

“Hello!” he said, as soon as he was near enough. “Welcome, welcome. But, forgive me— you are not Major Thompson.”

“No, sir,” the Earthwoman agreed. “I’m Captain Gryffydd, leader of SG-22. These are my men, Lieutenant Tobias, Sergeant Vicks and Dr. Flannigan.”

“I am Counselor Duanan,” said the man. He hesitated, then added, “The men of SG-9…?”

“They’re fine, sir,” said Gryffydd. “Or, they will be. They’ve caught a mild disease, we call it a cold— runny nose, sore throat, that sort of thing.”

Duanan nodded. “We also have such an illness. It is bothersome, but not dangerous.”

“Ours as well,” said Tobias. “Major Thompson and his team will be back to resume negotiations when they’re well again, but they’ve asked us to take their place at the festival tonight.”

The counselor smiled. “Then you are most welcome, captain. Let me introduce you to the others before the feast begins…”

*

“Incoming wormhole,” said the sergeant on duty in the SGC Control Room. “Receiving a video signal.”

“Put it through,” ordered General Hammond, moving to the where he could see the monitor.

A few seconds later, Captain Gryffydd’s image appeared, off-center and tilted. For a moment, Hammond thought the MALP was on uneven ground, but then Gryffydd moved into clearer view, wobbling slightly.

“ _General!_ ” she cried, smiling broadly. 

He frowned. “Captain, report.”

Gryffydd wobbled again, and grabbed onto the MALP to steady herself. Up close, her eyes appeared unfocused and her free hand waved vaguely. “ _Sir_ ,” she said, sounding as though she had to think hard about each word. “ _My team is… my team is_ stoned, _sir_.”

“Captain?” Hammond asked.

“ _Stoned, sir_ ,” the redhead repeated. “ _The local festival, it’s about art, and creativity, and, um, art. There’s this tea— really, really good tea— and we all drink it and, um, it gets sort of fuzzy after that, sir. But then we do art!_.”

“That wasn’t in the briefing,” he said, frowning again. “Is your team all right?”

“ _Oh, sure,_ ” she replied. “ _Okay, Levi’s fallen down a couple of times, but he’s okay. The tea’s made from a plant, kinda like weed— which I only know through rumor and totally_ not _because my college roommate snuck some past the nuns that one time_.”

“Is that Gryff?” asked Jack, coming to stand beside the general.

Hammond worked hard to keep a smile off of his face.”SG-22 is attending the festival on P8X-241, colonel.”

“A fertility festival?” Jack asked, not bothering to hide his own smile.

On the screen, Gryffydd shook her head, making her wobble more. “ _No, no, no_ ,” she said, waving a meandering finger at him. “ _No sex. Absolutely no sex on my team. We had a talk about that._ ”

“You had a talk?” Jack repeated, laughing.

“ _Yes, we did— What?_ ” she called, to someone out of the camera range. “ _Okay! I gotta go, sir. Now that we’re all really stoned, we gotta go do art. That’s what this festival’s about, you know. Creativity and stuff. There’s all different kinds. Jason’s doing painting. Toby’s gonna try… um, kinda looks like Lincoln Logs, but they’re orange. And me’n Levi are gonna do pottery!_ ”

Hammond let his smile surface. “Please be careful, captain. I’ll expect you to check in again in twelve hours. And if you feel even the slightest bit unwell, I want you to call for a medical team immediately.”

Gryffydd nodded enthusiastically, then grabbed the MALP again to keep from falling over. “ _Will do, sir. SG-22 out._.”

*

The sun dawned bright the next morning, even through the fabric of the tents where everyone slept.

Tobias groaned at the sudden light and flung an arm over his eyes. Or, at least, he tried to. Something heavy was lying across his elbow— when he cracked his eyes open again, he saw that it was Gryffydd, still fast asleep and liberally splattered with reddish-brown clay. Levi lay on her other side, back-to-back and using Vicks’s shoulder for a pillow. They both looked just as worse for the wear, Levi smudged with the same clay as their CO, and Vicks much more colorfully dabbed with dried paint.

“Oh, my head,” Gryffydd muttered, sitting up and freeing Tobias’s arm. “Everybody still got their clothes on?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Vicks, a little sharply. He sat up, too, wincing. “Did we get stoned and then do arts and crafts?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tobias told him, then frowned. “Gryff, did you get stoned and call General Hammond?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Oh, my god.”

“You could always bring him one of those clay pots you made,” Levi suggested.

His teammates all frowned. “Don’t say ‘pot’,” they chorused.


	8. Four Times SG-22 Didn’t Get Thrown into a Naquadah Mine # (Or, That Time They Didn’t Even Go on the Mission Because They All Had the Flu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of SG-22 all catch a perfectly normal Earth-based virus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt " ~~five~~ four times #3"

In another reality, SG-22 were captured by enemy Jaffa the moment they stepped through the ‘gate onto P3X-9985, dragged through two more off-world ‘gates and spent a record-breaking four weeks, six days doing forced labor in a naquadah mine.

In _this_ reality, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks woke up very, very early the morning of their planned mission. For a moment, he just lay in bed, listening to the quiet sounds of the Frat House— it wasn’t _really_ a fraternity house, just a five-bedroom house in the suburbs of Colorado Springs that the four members of SG-22 owned together. 

It was still dark out, and the house was quiet. He could hear Tobias snoring faintly in the room next door, and the _click, click_ of Mrs. Entwhistle’s sprinklers in the next yard over.

Vicks shivered suddenly and reached for his bedspread— only to realize it was already tucked around him. Was it supposed to have gotten that cold tonight? Usually, he ended up kicking his blankets onto the floor, even on the nights when Gryffydd went looking for her electric blanket, but at the moment he couldn’t seem to get warm.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then immediately regretted it. His head swam and his stomach lurched. “Oh, let’s not do that again,” he muttered. Vicks tried again, more slowly, but his stomach still didn’t approve— he grabbed the trash can beside his bed, but took a few deep breaths and everything settled.

His first instinct was to stay put, to curl up under the blankets and not come out until he felt better again. But it was quickly overridden. He’d been part of a team too long to keep something like this from people who cared the most about him.

Carefully, Vicks got to his feet, padding down the hallway to the open door of his CO’s room. Gryffydd was an indistinct lump of blankets in the dim light, with one pale arm sticking out. He paused for a moment, leaning against the doorway, but he knew he hadn’t made a sound yet when she stirred.

“Jase?” she asked. “You okay?”

“I’m—” he began, but his stomach finally rebelled and he darted for the master bathroom. He’d never liked being sick, and this felt like everything he’d eaten for the past week was coming back up. Vicks leaned heavily on the edge of the toilet, eyes closed, but opened them again when the light clicked on.

“Not okay, I take it,” said Gryffydd. She filled a paper cup with water and handed it to him. “Spit.”

Vicks took a sip, swished and spat it back out. “Thanks, sir.”

She sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing a soothing hand down his spine. “How long have you felt sick?”

“Only a little while,” he said. “I came to find you right away.”

“Good,” said Gryffydd. “Anything else?”

“Cold,” Vicks muttered. “I—” He shivered suddenly, then heaved again. “Ugh.”

“Cold?” she repeated, and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You feel warm. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Um…” he hedged, then admitted, “Sort of aches everywhere.”

Gryffydd nodded. “Sounds like the flu, Jase. Do you think you can—?”

She broke off as he heaved again, this time with nothing to bring back up. Vicks felt a hand under his arm as she pulled him gently to his feet. “Come on, into bed with you.”

He probably should have protested when she steered him toward _her_ bed, not back to his own room, but Vicks really did feel terrible. He let Gryffydd tuck him under the blankets, but frowned when she placed the bathroom trash can beside the bed.

“Just in case,” she said. “I’m going to go check on—”

“Gryff?” asked Levi, appearing suddenly. He leaned against the doorframe, looking distinctly green around the gills. “Gryff, I don’t…”

He trailed off, eyes wide, and raced for the bathroom.

Vicks managed a smile. “Two down.”

Gryffydd rolled her eyes, but headed after Levi. Vicks closed his eyes, half-listening as she got the sociologist cleaned up. The bed dipped, and he opened them again to find Levi climbing in beside him.

“I don’t feel so good,” Levi muttered. “I’m cold.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Vicks agreed.

By the time Gryffydd had returned from the hall closet with extra blankets, she had Tobias right behind her. “Oh, hey, guys,” he said, his voice sounding muffled. “What’s…ah…ah-CHOO!”

Without a word, he grabbed the box of tissues from Gryffydd’s dresser and slid under the covers on Levi’s other side. “Don’t we have that mission to P3X-9985 today?” he asked, sounding very congested.

“Not anymore,” said Gryffydd. “I’ll call the Mountain.”

Vicks closed his eyes again. The bed shook every time Tobias sneezed, and he could feel Levi inching closer to him. He cracked one eye open. “Just get over here and stay still.”

Levi offered a grateful smile and pressed his back against Vicks’s side. “It’s just that you’re really warm,” he mumbled, “and I’m cold.”

“Right,” Vicks replied.

“…yes, sir,” Gryffydd was saying, on the phone. “Yes, all four of us. You’d better send another team, sir. No, no, Dr. Fraiser doesn’t have to— Yes, sir…”

Vicks tuned her out again and wriggled further under the blankets. It was actually kind of nice having Levi next to him, now that he’d quit squirming, warm despite his protests of being cold, the reassuring presence of a friend when he wasn’t feeling his best.. 

The bedspread slipped and before he could reach for it, Gryffydd pulled it back over him, still talking on the phone, “…yes, Janet. Nothing serious. Vomiting, chills, Jason’s running a slight fever, Toby keeps sneezing… No, I don’t… Fine, Walter’s got the spare key. Yes, Janet…”

He hadn’t had anyone to look after him when he was sick, medical professionals notwithstanding, since he was a kid and his mom was still alive. Not that his team were overtly caring— after a particularly violent sneeze, Tobias had used up all the tissues, so he threw the balled-up dirty ones across the bed at Gryffydd. Still talking to Janet Fraiser, she grabbed a new box from her closet and lobbed it at his head. Levi gave kind of a full-body shiver and curled up tighter against Vicks’s side. Vicks himself felt suddenly warm, and threw half the blankets back over the sociologist.

“Okay,” said Gryffydd. “Thanks, Janet.”

She ended the call and tossed the phone onto her dresser. “So,” she said. “Janet’s gonna stop by later and see if we… if we…”

She went pale— paler than usual— and darted for the bathroom.

“Oh, hell,” muttered Tobias, scrambling out of bed after her.

They came back a few minutes later, Gryffydd wrapped in a too-large USMC sweatshirt— Vicks’s, of course, since his CO was a notorious clothes-stealer. Tobias pushed Gryffydd into bed, squashed in between him and Levi.

It was quiet for a moment, then Gryffydd said, “You know, one of us is going to have to stop puking long enough to make tea and chicken soup later.”

“Or we could just wait for Janet to get here,” suggested Levi.

Vicks smiled. “Good idea,” he said, before falling back to sleep.


	9. Four Times SG-22 Didn’t Get Thrown into a Naquadah Mine #4 (Or, That Time the Natives Tried to Sacrifice Them to Their Fire Goddess)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of SG-22 run into a little problem off-world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt " ~~five~~ four times #4"

Sociologist Dr. Levi Flannigan hurried to keep up with the rest of his team as they strode across the grassy fields of PX-8817. It was a bright, sunny day, with a gentle breeze, and they were on their way to see the local magistrate for a follow-up meeting after SG-15 had visited this world.

The natives— Elomans, they called themselves, and their world was Eloma— had an agrarian culture, and grew a type of grain that the scientists at the SGC thought might be interesting. Once SG-15 had determined that the planet was safe and that the people not under the rule of any Goa’uld, they’d passed the second-contact mission to SG-22.

It was a nice planet, almost tropical, and the small group of people who appeared from the other side of the meadow, dressed in brightly-colored sarong-like outfits, were all smiling.

“Hello,” said Gryffydd, when they stopped a few feet apart. 

“Hello!” replied the lead native, an older man dressed entirely in blue. “Welcome, new friends from Earth. I am Hanali, headman of this city.”

“Captain Gryffydd, leader of SG-22. The rest of my team, Lieutenant Tobias, Gunny Vicks and Dr. Flannigan.”

He nodded. “My daughters, Mailenna and Nolli.”

“Ladies,” Gryffydd greeted, with a nod to each young woman.

Hanali smiled. “You are most welcome, captain. Our city is this way, if you will follow me…”

They fell into step with the headman’s family, and Levi found himself beside Mailenna, who looked to be the elder of the two sisters.

“I am glad your captain is a woman,” she said, suddenly. At Levi’s surprised look, she added, “I am to be headwoman in my father’s place, and it is good to know that your world acknowledges women leaders.”

“Oh, of course,” he told her. “It hasn’t always, I mean. But nowadays, women can do just about anything.”

They approached the city, a sprawling 

“Something smells good,” said Vicks. “Any chance we can stay for lunch?”

Nolli, the younger sister, smiled at him. “A meal is always shared with new friends,” she said. 

“That is a very good custom,” said Gryffydd. As they walked through the city gates, she reached up and pulled off her helmet.

The headman and his daughters all froze. “Hair of fire!” Nolli cried.

Levi frowned at her, then at the three of them, then passed them at the people gathering in the square— all with varying shades of dark hair. 

“Sorry,” said Gryffydd. “Should I— Do women of age here cover their hair?”

It was a strange question, Levi thought, until he remembered that before Gryffydd had joined the SGC, she’d done several tours in the Middle East. “No, Gryff,” he said. “This culture is more closely related to the Polynesian than to any—”

“Hair of fire,” Hanali breathed. “After all this time. We had thought… Captain, would you mind accompanying my daughters to the, ah, women’s quarters? There is something you need to—”

There was a sudden commotion, and everything moved too fast for Levi to really follow. There were weapons involved, shooting down awnings on top of the armor-clad guards who appeared suddenly. Vicks grabbed hold of his elbow, and they were running, through the city gate and into the woods.

Levi managed to keep pace, as the three men followed Gryffydd through the trees. She had an uncanny ability for finding her way through wooded areas— not that she’d know where she was, then, or even how to get back where she’d started, but she always found the clearest path, even at a dead run.

“Okay,” Levi wheezed, when they finally stopped running. “What just happened?”

“Two words for you,” said Vicks. “Volcano cult.”

“Um, what?”

“You didn’t see the armed guards?” asked Tobias. “The ones who were following the headman’s orders to grab Gryff and have her prepared as an offering to the goddess of the fire mountain?”

Levi shook his head.

“We have got to work on your focus, buddy,” Vicks muttered.

“How about now?” said Gryffydd, sharply. “We’re cut off from the ‘gate and grossly outnumbered. But, on the upside, we have all our gear, so if we can manage to get back to the ‘gate, we can get through.”

Tobias nodded. “But how?”

“Sir?” said Vicks, smiling slightly. “I think I know. How can we keep them from wanting to sacrifice you to their goddess?”

“If I’m not here?” she suggested.

“If she’s already dead,” said Levi.

“No,” said Vicks, pointing at one, then the other, “and no. Did any of you happen to see that mosaic right when we entered town?”

Gryffydd’s expression lit up. “The one with the redhead? The volcano goddess?”

“Bingo,” said the Marine. “They can’t sacrifice you to the goddess if you _are_ the goddess.”

She grinned. “Jason Vicks, you’re a genius.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Except, did you happen to notice what she was wearing?”

Gryffydd’s expression clouded over. “Oh, you are not telling me— No, I know, it’s the only way. But why do I always end up the one in my skivvies?”

“Would it help if I said you looked best in your underwear?” Levi offered.

“A little,” she admitted. “Okay, boys, I’m going to need a grass skirt and— wait a minute. Weren’t there men in that mosaic? Shirtless ones wearing foliage?”

Vicks winced. “I was hoping you hadn’t seen that, sir.”

She scowled. “Shirts off, boys. Fair is fair.”

*

“SG-22 is now half an hour late for their check-in,” reported the sergeant on duty in the ‘Gate Room.

Hammond sighed. “Give them a little longer, sergeant. We don’t know that they haven’t been sent to another naquadah mine.”

“Yes, sir— Sir! Unscheduled off-world activation!” The alarm blared softly, but stopped when he added, “Receiving SG-22’s IDC.”

“Open the iris,” Hammond ordered.

The metal slid aside, and four figures strode down the ramp. The general blinked. That wasn’t— that _was_. SG-22 were streaked with dark mud, up their bare hands and feet. Gryffydd’s hair was wild around her shoulders, not its usual pinned-up braid, and all four of them wore what looked like large leaves fashioned into skirts.

“Hey, sir!” Gryffydd called up to him. “Think we can have a minute to clean up before we debrief?”

Hammond worked hard to hide his smile. “One hour, captain.”

“Yes, sir. And, sir? Is there any regulation against impersonating a goddess?”

“One hour,” he repeated. At least the debriefing wouldn’t be dull.


	10. Mightier Than the Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 run into a problem with their supplies— and some Jaffa— on an off-world mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "pencils"

“Okay,” said Air Force Captain Igraine Gryffydd, ducking back behind the walls of the crumbling ruin. “This looks bad.”

“No, really, sir,” drawled Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks, from behind another section of wall.

She flashed a smile at him— another commanding officer might have found that remark insubordinate, but on SG-22, sarcasm was practically their second language.

Gryffydd risked another look, then ducked back again. “Yeah, real bad.”

The series of ancient, abandoned architecture was the reason they were on P3X-8812. The planet had no particular strategic or material value and no indigenous population, which was how SG-22 got tapped for the mission. They were securing and photographing the site, so that the SGC could be sure it was safe to send a science team to properly catalogue and study the place.

Gryffydd’s team had been there for three days, mapping and documenting. They still had a few more days of work to go, but Daniel Jackson had asked them to send back copies of the photos they’d taken so far, and there were a few supplies they needed. So, Gryffydd and Vicks had hiked back to the ‘gate for a pit stop back to Earth.

Only, just as they’d passed the last rubble wall, the stargate had sprung to life, letting through at least a dozen armored Jaffa warriors, who began to form ranks as they came out of the ‘gate.

“Sir?” said Vicks. “How are we going to get back to camp?”

“The back way,” she said. “Unless you’d like to get shot at?”

The ‘back way’ was through steep, rocky hills, but it was all heavily wooded and would hide them from sight the entire way back to their camp.

“I do generally prefer not to get shot,” the Marine replied.

Gryffydd grinned. 

It took them twenty minutes and two scraped knees (both of them Gryffydd’s, though Vicks managed to bump an elbow and his funny bone) to make it back to their campsite.

“Trouble?” asked Second Lieutenant Walter Tobias, handing Gryffydd his canteen as she stopped beside him.

She took a swig. “Oh, yeah. Jaffa, a couple dozen of them.”

“I saw a First Prime,” added Vicks. “Lee, you got a pencil?”

Dr. Levi Flannigan patted down his pockets, producing one and a notepad. Vicks scrawled the symbol, slightly more complicated than the ones the Goa’uld usually preferred, and the sociologist frowned. “That’s got to be Dharma,” he said.

“Isn’t she married to Greg?” asked Tobias.

Gryffydd shrugged. “That’s what I thought.”

Levi scowled. “Dharma is the personification of natural law, in Hindu mythology. From the Tok’Ra reports, the Goa’uld Dharma isn’t much of a threat, only holds a couple of worlds and a few hundred Jaffa.”

“Yeah, well, that kind of makes him a threat to _us_ ,” said Vicks. “Sir, what’s our plan?”

She paused, thinking over their options. “Well, it’s not as though we can stay here until we miss our check-in, three days from now, and hope the Jaffa just don’t spot us. So, we’ll have to get back through the ‘gate. What do we have for weapons and supplies?”

“Our food and water are running a little low,” said Tobias. “But enough for a couple of days, still. We’ve got our P90s and spare clips, plus the exploratory supplies on the FRED.”

Gryffydd brightened. “That’s right. We have excavation and demolition equipment, in case we needed to clear anything out of our way— including a dozen pounds of C-4.”

Vicks headed for the motorized cart and began opening containers. He froze after the first, then opened several more quickly. “Uh, sir? It’s… it’s pencils?”

For a moment, that made no sense. “Pencils?” Gryffydd repeated.

Sure enough, the crate labeled ‘C-4’ contained nothing but neatly stacked boxes of Ticonderoga yellow no. 2 pencils.

“This is a problem,” said Gryffydd.

“They’re in all the crates,” said Tobias, opening the rest of the containers, one by one. “Every single— nope, this one is rubber bands.”

“Oh, that makes it better,” said Vicks. “Sir, the Jaffa have staff weapons. What the hell are we supposed to do with office supplies?”

Gryffydd smiled. “C’mon, boys, how many episodes of _MacGyver_ have I made you watch?”

Forty-five minutes later, Gryffydd and Vicks were running full-tilt away from the stargate and back toward the ruins, almost all of the Jaffa on their tail. They’d left their vests behind, for speed, but it meant they had to zig and zag to avoid the staff weapons fire. Periodically, they turned to return fire, but for the most part, they just tried to stay ahead of the advancing warriors.

Rounding a curve of standing wall, they reached the stone corridor they’d been studying, and sped up. They took a running start and jumped, vaulting over a seemingly-ordinary stretch of ground. Gryffydd landed off-balance, her arms pin-wheeling, but Levi was there to catch her, even as Tobias reached out to steady Vicks. SG-22 ducked out of sight just as the Jaffa reached them, staff weapons blasting. The first ranks hit the place where Gryffydd and Vicks had left scuffs in the dust and kept moving forward.

Then, _down_.

The pencil-and-rubber-band mats, covered with mud, dirt and small rocks to appear like the solid ground, were no match for a squad of fully-armored Jaffa warriors. It gave way almost instantly, dumping them into the chasm below. Several more tumbled after, unable to halt their headlong rush, but a few more skidded to a frantic stop at the edge.

“Now!” yelled Gryffydd.

Scrambling up the rubble walls on opposite sides of the corridor, she and Tobias yanked out the wooden supports that held back piles of boulders, which then came crashing down on the remaining Jaffa.

When the dust settled, SG-22 crept out from behind the walls to survey the damage.

“Nice, sir,” said Vicks, appreciatively.

“Hammond is gonna love reading this mission report,” said Tobias.

“I will never think of the SATs the same way again,” muttered Levi.

Gryffydd grinned. “They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but yellow pencils kick some serious ass.”


	11. Arrivals!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardian of Arrivals and Restrictions watches the arrival of SG-22.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "alien" & "mustache" & "ice flower" (bonus for inanimate object narrator)

There was no one living on PX-819. That’s wasn’t to say, of course, that there wasn’t anything non-living there. The creators had named him the Guardian of Arrivals and Restrictions, but the large stone obelisk on a plinth beside the weather-worn buildings had always preferred ‘Gary’.

He knew people had lived there, once, but after all this time— Years? Centuries? Millennia?— he couldn’t quite remember them anymore. Which made Gary’s life rather dull. With no one arriving, he had no one to potentially restrict, and really not much else to do.

Then, suddenly, in the middle of the afternoon, the stargate activated. Arrivals! thought Gary, but it was only a boxy mechanical construct. It didn’t talk or move, just sat by the stone steps taking environmental readings. Boring.

Gary had almost decided to go back into power-saving mode when a new wormhole appeared. This time, four people emerged, all wearing the same green and black uniforms.

“— says there was no movement detected by the MALP,” one was saying, a woman by her voice, having come through the stargate mid-sentence. “So there is no way you can be eaten by anything, Levi.”

The shortest of her companions sneezed loudly. “What about plants, then?” he demanded.

“There is kind of a lot of pollen,” said another man. “But I’ve got some antihistamine tablets in my pack.”

“Really?” said Levi. “Jason, I could kiss you.”

“I wouldn’t,” said the woman. “Not with that thing on your face.”

Jason ran a thumb and forefinger over the neatly-trimmed hair on his upper lip. “You don’t like my ‘stache, sir?”

She snorted. “It’s creepy. Don’t you think it’s creepy, Toby?”

“Absolutely, Gryff,” agreed the third man, not looking up from where he was examining their machine. “We leave him alone for less than a week, and he goes crazy on us.”

“Hey,” Jason protested. “Levi said I looked sharp.”

“No, what I said was—” Levi broke off, sneezing four times in rapid succession. “Jase, you weren’t kidding about those antihistamines, right?”

The two of them stopped, digging through Jason’s pack, while the rest of their team continued on. The man that the other called Toby passed close to Gary’s plinth and, obligingly, he lit it up.

“Gryff!” he called, raising a weapon.

Gary hesitated, waiting. They seemed very much like his creators, like the people he’d been hoping for, but he had to be sure.

Their leader, the woman named Gryff, came over and Gary’s external crystals glowed brighter. He recognized something in her— she was very like his creators!

“Woah,” said Toby, taking a step back. “Gryff?”

She approached cautiously, her own weapon in hand. “I think it’s an automated system,” she said. She reached out and placed her hand against the largest crystal.

Gary felt the warmth of her hand. He decided Gryff and her team were all right, and opened the door.

The looks on their faces were proof enough that he’d chosen right.

“It’s a greenhouse,” breathed Jason, joining them.

They spread out, but kept within sight of each other.

“Well, this explains your sneezing, Levi,” said Gryff. She paused to examine a delicate blue flower that looked like it had been carved from ice, but when her finger brushed the petals, it flexed like any other blossom.

“Does the SGC have any botanists on retainer?” asked Toby. “Because we could use the help.”

“Yeah, but they’re alien flowers,” said Jason. “Would they know anything about these?”

“Probably not,” Gryff agreed. “But I’m sure they’d like to try. C’mon, boys, let’s dial up the SGC and see if they have any scientists we can borrow…”

As they activated the stargate, Gary could barely contain his excitement.

Arrivals!

He thought he’d restrict a couple of them from the building at first, though, just for fun.


	12. This Isn't Back to the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We get transported a hundred years into the past, and we _still_ get thrown into a mine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "the old west" & "time for a change" & "a picture is worth a thousand words"

“Miners,” said Levi, wearily. “We get transported a hundred years into the past, and we _still_ get thrown into a mine!”

Vicks looked up at him from across the dim tunnel, resting his pickaxe on the ground. “Yeah, but it’s a gold mine. Isn’t that better?”

“Not so much,” said Tobias. “And we still don’t know for absolute certain that we’ve gone back in time. Did anyone check the buildings in town to make sure they’re not just plywood sets?”

Gryffydd scowled. “This isn’t _Specter of the Gun_ , Toby,” she said. “But bonus points for the _Star Trek_ reference.”

“But what are we going to do?” asked Levi.

“Stash the DeLorean and open a blacksmith’s shop?” Vicks suggested.

“This isn’t _Back to the Future_ , either,” said Gryffydd, but she smiled. “Get to work.”

One moment, SG-22 had been exploring a shallow cavern system on P2X-915, the next they’d woken to the dazzling sunshine of a forest. Following a well-worn trail, they’d emerged at the outskirts of a town straight out of a John Wayne movie. It was almost a city, really, with stone buildings and sturdy houses and a train station, but outdated all the same. A discarded newspaper told them the date— August 25, 1892.

They stopped at a large house, far outside the town proper, with enough laundry on the clothes line to suggest they wouldn’t miss a few pieces. They kept their BDU pants and boots, dirtied up to look less mass-produced, but traded their t-shirts for stolen button-downs, and Gryffydd found a vest to hide her figure and help her pass as a young man.

Their first order of business was finding work, and the quickest work to find that wouldn’t immediately give them away as (supposed) time-travelers was in a gold mine. Fortunately, Tobias’s demolitions experience was enough to get him blasting work, and the mine always sent four-man teams out to blast new tunnels, which gave SG-22 the time and privacy to figure things out.

“Time travel is the best option, though,” Gryffydd continued, swinging her pickaxe down with a _crack_. “And if that is what happened, we’ve got to find a way back. It’s dangerous to stay here.”

“Right,” said Vicks. “Like that photograph we took last week, in front of a certain yet-to-be-constructed—”

“I have the only copy of that,” she said, then smiled again. “Okay, maybe this is _Back to the Future_.”

Vicks took another swing at the tunnel wall, then looked back up. “Is that enough, sir?”

Tobias inspected the gouge they’d made in the rock face. “Yeah, that looks like enough. Stand back, everyone.”

Nineteenth century dynamite was nowhere near as stable as twenty-first centuries explosives, so the rest of SG-22 held their breath while Tobias fitted the sticks into the gap. He stepped back, unraveling the blasting cord, back down the tunnel.

“There is no way this is a safe distance,” said Levi, as he attached the detonator. “And where are our hard hats?”

“Quiet, Lee,” said Grfydd. 

Tobias called the warning and set off the charges. “Clear!” he said, when the smoke began to settle. “Let’s have a look.”

They followed him into the new tunnel, strangely rounder than any of the previous ones. 

“Is this… familiar to anyone else?” Gryffydd asked.

“Déjà vu all over again,” said Vicks. “Sir…”

“This is the cave on P2X-915,” she said. “Yep.”

“And we were all standing—” Tobias began, but he was cut off by a bright light.

They woke up on a grassy plain, a dozen meters from the stargate platform. “Sound off,” said Gryffydd.

“Were we just…?” Tobias asked. He looked down to see that he still wore the dirty button-down shirt they’d stolen in 1892. “Seriously?”

Gryffydd patted down her pockets and came up with a paper envelope. “Seriously. Levi, dial it up.”

The four members of SG-22 strolled down the ramp into the Gate Room, still in their nineteenth century clothes and all of them grinning.

“Captain Gryffydd,” said Hammond, a smile just out of sight. “Your team is two hours late for your check-in. And out of uniform.”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed. “But I have a note.”

She held out the envelope and, curious, pulled it open. “Gryff, is this…?”

He tilted the photograph toward them, SG-22 standing in front of a very familiar mountain range.

“Cheyenne Mountain, circa 1892?” Gryffydd asked. “Yes, sir.”

Hammond sighed. “We debrief in one hour. I have a feeling this will be good.”

They grinned. “You have no idea, sir,” said Tobias.


	13. True Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of SG-22 participate in an off-world ritual about family and togetherness— and paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "Too many jokes, not enough meditation (Ginsberg)" & "clean up"

Igraine Gryffydd closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the almost-but-not-quite familiar scent of alien aromatherapy candles. Around her, she could hear the three members of her team settling into position with their little pots of body paint.

The people of P2X-576 held this ritual every year, a celebration of reflecting and reconnecting as family units. Each group built a temporary stick-and-straw hut-like building, lit candles that smelled sort of like Lady Grey tea, and covered each other in finger-paint body murals. The drawings were supposed to be a representation, literal or metaphorical, of how the painter saw or felt about the paintee.

The four members of SG-22 had arrived just in time to join them, and had been loaned their own temporary hut-building. It was tradition to start with the youngest member of a family, so Levi had been the first to pull off his shirt and settle onto the pile of cushions in the middle of the hut. 

Gryff’s fingers were already stained with paint— as the oldest, she would go last. She had drawn a map of Earth across Levi’s shoulder blades, marked at the places he’d most like to visit; then a fairly impressive Marine Corps insignia above Vicks’s heart, right where it belonged; and a series of interlocking gears down Tobias’s arms, both for his engineering skill and his quick mind. Then, she’d traded her t-shirt for the halter top she’d been given by one of the local women and sat cross-legged on the cushions.

“Be careful, Lee,” said Vicks’s voice, from her left, “or the captain will be seeing red.”

“As long as she won’t be feeling blue,” Levi replied, and she could hear him clattering the small bowls of paint together.

Gryff heard Tobias laugh, directly behind her. “How about we show Gryff her true colors?”

“Hey,” she said, without opening her eyes. “Too many jokes, not enough meditation. You’re supposed to be thinking about what I mean to you.”

“Right,” said Tobias and the other two muttered, “Sorry.”

Gryff almost drifted off under the feeling of their warm hands on her skin, leaving cool trails of drying paint as they went. After what seemed like forever and no time at all, a hand touched her knee. “Hey, Gryff, we’re done,” said Tobias.

She opened her eyes, blinking at the change of light, and Levi held up the mirror from his shaving kit so she could see her reflection.

There was a band of black paint across her eyes. “Because you’re sneaky,” said Levi, “like a ninja.”

A pattern of blue swirls trailed over her sternum, with a red heart over her own. “It’s supposed to be like the squiggles of a brain, sir,” said Vicks. “But blue because you’re always calm.”

“And you’ve got heart,” Levi added, smirking. “I did that, too.”

Tobias, still behind her, held up his own shaving mirror so the double reflection would show the wings he’d drawn over the entire length of her back. “Because you keep us under your wing,” he said. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “They’re all beautiful. Thank you.”

“This is definitely one of the better off-world rituals,” said Vicks, twisting to see the tree Levi had painted on his bare back. “Do you think we can come back next year?”

“Maybe,” Gryff agreed, wetting a finger to smooth a smudged line on one of Tobias’s painted cogs.

Levi reached toward his chest, as though about to scratch at the Cowardly Lion-esque Badge of Courage that Vicks had drawn for him, and stopped, dropping his hand again.

“Something wrong?” Tobias asked. They were pretty sure the paint was hypoallergenic, but Levi had never been as comfortable with public partial nudity as the rest of them.

The sociologist squirmed. “I just don’t like having stuff all over me. How long until we can get cleaned up?”

“Not until after the feast,” said Gryff. “Don’t you want to come show everyone how much your family loves you?”

Levi smiled. “Yeah, I do. I guess I can put up with it that long.”

Vicks clapped him on a paint-free shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”


	14. Blood Brothers and Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, SG-22 hadn’t been thrown into a naquadah mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "brother/sister" & "better in red"

For once, SG-22 hadn’t been thrown into a naquadah mine. This time, they’d been thrown into a dark, dingy prison cell, but not before the Goa’uld— one Vicks had ever heard of, a minor threat to Earth in the long run but a serious immediate problem for SG-22— had gotten his goons to work Gryffydd over pretty good. Vicks hadn’t been able to see what was going on and the captain, damn her, never made a sound. But the moment their cell door had slammed shut, she’d slid down the wall, head and arms over her bent knees.

Tobias and Levi knelt beside her, and Gryffydd raised her head enough to look at them. One of her eyes was already beginning to swell, and blood trickled steadily from her decidedly-crooked nose. From the way she was sitting, Vicks could tell she’d bruised a couple of ribs, if not cracked them, even if he wasn’t their medic. Tobias, who was, dug through the captain’s pockets for one of the handkerchiefs she always seemed to have and pressed it gently to her nose.

“Hey,” she said, blinking a couple of times in a way that meant she probably had a concussion, too. “You guys okay?”

Vicks had taken a jab from a guard’s staff weapon, and Tobias and Levi had been smart enough to struggle. But Gryffydd had put herself, metaphorically if not literally, in the line of fire. Just like she always did.

“Dammit, sir, do you have a death wish?” Vicks snapped.

They all stared at him— he wasn’t exactly taciturn, but outbursts weren’t usually his style.

“Seriously,” he continued. “I am getting pretty sick of this, aren’t you?”

Tobias frowned. “You’re getting pretty close to insubordination, gunny.”

“I don’t care!” said Vicks. “I’d rather be insubordinate than let my commanding officer get killed.”

Gryffydd pulled the handkerchief away from her face, mouth open to speak, but the sight of her bruised and bloody face just made him angrier.

“Don’t you think we could handle it, sir?” Vicks demanded. “The lieutenant and I had the same combat training as you. _Better_ , in fact, even you would admit to that. And you have to know that you don’t have to prove yourself to us. We’ve never cared that you’re a girl, we know you’re tough.”

“Jason,” Gryffydd said, too loudly and winced, then repeated more softly, “Jason…”

“Is it that you don’t trust us?” he asked. “That you can’t be sure we won’t break?”

The captain’s eyes widened, brightly blue above blood red. “I can’t be sure _I_ won’t,” she blurted.

Vicks, who had begun pacing, stopped short. “What?”

“It’s not about trust,” said Gryffydd, talking fast now that she’d started, her voice slightly flat because of her broken nose. “It’s not about proving anything. Jason, I can’t— It _has_ to be me, don’t you understand? Because if I had to watch— if it happened to you, I don’t think I could take it.”

Levi reached for her hand. “Gryff,” he breathed. “If… if something did happen to us, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” added Tobias, from her other side.

Vicks knelt on the stone floor in front of her. “Sir, you can’t keep doing this. Not every time. One of these days…”

Gryffydd managed a smile. “You don’t get it, Jace. You guys are all only children. But I’ve been a big sister since I was two, and some habits are too hard to break.”

“You… you think of us as brothers?” Vicks asked. Because he loved his team, more than he’d loved just about anybody, but he’d never had a sister before.

“Yeah,” she said with a watery smile, like it was obvious. “You guys are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Don’t cry, Gryff,” said Levi, who sounded like _he_ might cry at any moment. “You can’t cry with a broken nose.”

“Thanks, Lee,” she said, flinging an arm over his shoulders. She reached her other hand out to Vicks. “We’re okay?”

He took it, squeezing gently. “We’re better than okay, Gryff,” he said. “We’re family.”

His rare use of her nickname brought a fully-fledged smile to her lips. She took a sniffling breath and winced. “Okay,” she said, all business again. “Now that we’ve used up our monthly allotment of emotional expression, who’s got a plan for busting out of here?”

“You do, Gryff,” said Tobias. “You always have a plan.”

She grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do.”


	15. SG-22 in Space!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well. This certainly isn’t anaquadah mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "in space"

Captain Igraine Gryffydd woke slowly to the dull, throbbing headache that meant she’d been hit with a ‘zat stun blast. She opened her eyes, frowned, blinked, and opened them again.

“Well,” she said. “This certainly isn’t a naquadah mine.”

She and her still-unconscious teammates were lying on a metal floor, surrounded by bright golden walls, covered in hieroglyphics— the interior of a Goa’uld spaceship.

Beside Gryffydd, a lump in SGC-green began to stir. “Huh,” said First Lieutenant Walter Tobias. “This is different.”

“Do they really have to ‘zat us every time?” asked Dr. Levi Flannigan, straightening his glasses. “They could just ask us to surrender.”

“We wouldn’t,” added Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks. “But it would be nice if they asked.”

“I’ll put in a formal request,” said Gryffydd dryly. She levered herself to her feet and began inspecting the walls. “How big a ship do you think this is?”

“I don’t think it’s a mothership,” said Tobias. “This doesn’t look designed to be a brig.”

“So, one of those little cargo ships?” suggested Vicks.

“Al’kesh,” the lieutenant supplied. “Maybe.”

Suddenly, they heard footsteps and the clanking of armor from outside. A door in the golden wall slid open, revealing three Jaffa guards, all bearing the black points-down crescent moon of the Goa’uld Hecate.

“Ah, hello,” said Gryffydd. “We didn’t know this flight had been overbooked. I don’t suppose we could arrange an upgrade to—”

The lead guard tapped her with the butt of his staff weapon, a surprisingly light blow, but Gryffydd made an act of it anyway. Behind the guards, she could see an open cockpit area and a single Jaffa at the helm.

Even odds was way better than they usually got for this sort of thing.

“You are prisoners of the mighty Hecate,” said the lead guard. “In a short time, you shall stand before the goddess and answer for the crimes of the Tau’ri. Then, you will know true agony.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” said Gryffydd. “We’re going to have to say ‘no’.”

“Thanks for the ride, though,” said Vicks. “You can just drop us off anywhere.”

The guard snarled and took a step forward, staff weapon raised to strike her again, putting himself directly between Vicks and Tobias.

“Boys,” said Gryffyd.

Instantly, they all moved. Gryffydd ducked under the lead guard’s staff weapon to grab the ‘zat at his side. His blow glanced off her shoulder, hard, and she rolled, ‘zatting the guard advancing on Levi. The sociologist tossed her a grateful smile, then picked up the fallen guard’s ‘zat to stun the one Gryffydd had been fighting. The last guard had reached his own ‘zat, but Vicks lunged for a dropped staff weapon and fired at point-blank range— Gryffydd added a stun blast for good measure.

The fight had happened so quickly that the pilot had only just left his seat, still reaching for his weapons. Tobias fired one ‘zat blast, and everything went quiet.

“Nice work, boys,” said Gryffydd. “Take their weapons and lock them up.”

Jaffa warriors in full armor were _heavy_ , but they managed to move them into the rear compartment, before Tobias pried open the control panel and pulled out all the crystals.

“Okay,” said Tobias, crossing to stand in front of the pilot’s console, Gryffydd beside him. “Who knows how to fly this thing?”

“What?” asked Vicks, surprised. “You’re in the Air Force.”

“I’m an engineer!” cried Tobias, at the same time Gryffydd said, “I’m a secretary!”

“So, we’re stuck?” asked Levi.

“No,” said Gryffydd stubbornly, plopping into the co-pilot’s seat. “No, we will… figure this out.”

“Right,” Tobias agreed, taking the pilot’s chair. “I wonder what this does…”

Suddenly, an alarm began beeping softly. “Proximity,” said Levi, pointing over Gryffydd’s shoulder at a Goa’uld glyph no one else could read. “Another ship?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Vicks, as a larger Goa’uld transport came into view.

“ _Cargo ship_ ,” came a vice. “ _Identify yourself_.”

“Is that…?” asked Tobias.

“Sure sounds like,” Vicks agreed.

Levi leaned over again to touch a control. “Martouf, is that you?”

“Levi!” the other three hissed, and Vicks added, “What if he’s undercover?”

“ _I thank you for your concern_ ,” Martouf replied. “ _But I am here as an agent of the Tok’Ra. You are from the Tau’ri?_ ”

“That’s right,” said Gryffydd. “SG-22. Do you think you could loan us a pilot?”

“ _A pilot_ ,” he repeated. “ _I thought Tau’ri teams all included members of your Air Force_.”

Gryffydd scowled. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t make us all pilots.”

There was a pause. “ _I understand_ ,” said Martouf. “ _Is your ring transporter functional?_ ”

“Yeah, about that…”


	16. Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff takes a simple comfort from her team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "comforting"

_This is probably unhealthy_ , thinks Gryff, as her bed shifts and a heavy arm lands across her middle. If the SGC psychology department hadn’t already decided that SG-22 was generally more trouble than they were worth to analyze and capable enough of dealing with their own issues to be allowed back into the field— the shrinks used more technical terms, of course, but that was the gist— then Gryff is sure they’d have something to say about four grown adults, combat veterans all, squashing into the same bed like children scared of a storm.

But it’s been a long, long day. And for one brief, awful moment, Gryff had been convinced that she was never going to see these three men again. 

So, she simply kicks the comforter back into place and closes her eyes, drifting back to sleep surrounded by the warmth of three living, breathing bodies.


	17. The Big Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sir, you don’t have to watch the game with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "Friday night"

“What kind of snacks do you usually eat during the big game?” Gryff asked, frowning thoughtfully at her grocery list.

Jason brought their shopping cart to a sudden stop. “The what now?”

“The big game,” she repeated. “Are they all called ‘the big game’? You know what I mean, the football game on Friday night. Or maybe it’s basketball…”

“It is football, sir. Panthers verses Broncos.”

“Panthers are your team, aren’t they?” said Gryff, turning back to her list. “North Carolina?”

He smiled. “Both Carolinas, actually. And the Broncos are Denver.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “So for that, do we want nachos or little pizzas?”

Jason frowned. “Sir, you don’t all have to watch the game with me. I was just planning to… You and Levi don’t even like football.”

“It’s not on our list of favorite things,” Gryff admitted. “But we’re your friends, Jason. You watch sci-fi with me, and documentaries with Levi, and the travel channel with Toby. It’s only fair that we watch sports with you. If you don’t mind explaining it to us.”

Jason grinned. “Of course not. But for that kind of hard work, we might need nachos _and_ mini-pizzas.”

She smiled back. “Sounds good to me.”


	18. Phone Call from Philadelphia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel Gryffydd’s daughter is the librarian at a base doing deep space radar telemetry— at least, as far as she knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "space travel" & "what's in the bag?"

“ _Captain Gryffydd’s office._ ”

“Igraine? Is that you?”

“ _Mom? Yeah, it’s me. Really, I’m the only woman who answers this phone._ ”

“Well, you sounded a little hoarse.”

“ _I, um, I think I’m coming down with something. And I’ve got this thing on speaker._ ”

“That must be it.”

“ _Is there a reason you called, Mom? Is everything all right?_ ”

“It’s been over two weeks since I’ve heard from you, Igraine. I was almost starting to worry.”

“ _Two weeks? It can’t have been… well, crap. Sorry, Mom._ ”

“It’s all right. I know you’re busy, and how hard you work.”

“ _I’ll try to be better at calling. How are you, Mom?_

“I’m fine. Your father’s fine. And so is your brother, by the way. Evan says he hasn’t heard from you in months.”

“ _That is not true. I sent him a card for his birthday._ ”

“Igraine…”

“ _I don’t know what you expect me to do, Mom. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of me joining the military in the first place, but now I think he’s just pissed that I’m base librarian for an outfit doing deep space telemetry, not secretary to some general he can name-drop to his clients._ ”

“That’s a bit unfair, Igraine. I’m sure Evan is just as proud of you as we are. But, really, you won’t even tell us the most basic details of your work now. I think he’s just worried, and he’s always covered up things like that by being angry.”

“ _Yeah, I guess he has. But I can’t tell you about my work, Mom. Even if I’d like to. It’s classified, remember?_ ”

“A lot of your work has been classified, Igraine. But you could always tell us _something_. Even when you were in Afghanistan.”

“ _I do wish I could tell you. The things I’ve seen, the places I’ve been… but this is classified way above any of my other postings. I promise, as soon as the program is… as soon as I can, I’ll tell you everything._ ”

“I know, Igraine, I know. I suppose that’s the best I can get for now. But you’re doing well, whatever you’re doing?”

“ _Yeah, Mom. I’m okay._ ”

“ _Hey, Gryff? The general needs those forms signed— Oh, sorry._ ”

“ _No, come in. He needs them right now? Okay, let me just— Here, talk to my mom for a moment._ ”

“ _What? I— Oh, um, Mrs. Gryffydd?_ ”

“Hello. And who’s this?”

“ _First Lieutenant Walter Tobias, ma’am. But everyone calls me Toby._ ”

“Yes, Igraine’s mentioned you. Good things, I promise.”

“ _I very much doubt that, ma’am, but it’s good of you to say._ ”

“And do you help Igraine with the library?”

“ _What? Oh, right, the_ library _! I mean, no, ma’am. I’m an engineer, here on the base. Gryff— Igraine— takes care of the library by herself, but she’s got it running pretty smoothly._ ”

“ _Okay, that’s the last of them, Toby. Give me the phone._ ”

“ _Yes, sir. It was nice talking to you, Mrs. Gryffydd!_ ”

“Igraine?”

“ _Hi, Mom, it’s me again._ ”

“So, Igraine, when do we get to meet your young men in person?”

“ _They’re not my ‘young men’, Mom, they’re assigned to my command. I don’t even like them much, most of the time. Stop smirking, Toby— and you, Jason. Go, get out, both of you. Sorry, Mom. Yeah, I’ll bring them out east sometime._ ”

“Soon, maybe?”

“ _I don’t know when we’ll get leave, Mom. Things are… um, kind of unpredictable right now. It might be a while._ ”

“You came home more often when you were stationed in the Middle East.”

“ _Mom…_ ”

“I’m sorry, Igraine. But I worry about you, too. And the unknown always seems more terrifying than solid facts.”

“ _Not always._ ”

“I do understand that you can’t tell me, Igraine. Just be careful out there, please?”

“ _Out here? In Colorado? Yeah, Mom. I’ll be careful._ ”

“Good, good.”

“ _Captain-Gryffydd? Am I interrupting?_ ”

“ _No, Teal’c, come in. What’s up?_ ”

“ _I wish to show Master Bra’tac the library. Would you have time to accompany us?_ ”

“ _Oh, sure. I’ll be right there. Mom? I have to go. I’m being abducted by aliens._ ”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve used that joke.”

“ _I’ll call you back, Mom. Later this week, I promise. Love you._ ”

“I love you, too, Igraine.”


	19. Made a Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Ancient meddling lets Gryff see how her life has made a difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge "It's a Wonderful Life"

“You should get yourself cleaned up, Captain Gryffydd,” said a nurse, kindly.

Gryff frowned at her, then followed the other woman’s gaze to the blood, splashed from fingers to elbows, that wasn’t her own. She felt suddenly breathless, lightheaded and dizzy.

“Captain?” the nurse asked again.

Gryff ran.

Up twenty-eight floors, leaning heavily against the elevator wall, past the guard stations, ignoring the sergeants’ worried faced, and finally out into the cold Colorado night.

She _ran_ , feeling the pounding of her heart and the thump of her boots on the pavement, until her muscles began to protest and she came to a stop. Somehow, she’d ended up on one of the hiking trails that ran through the foot of Cheyenne Mountain, and she’d stopped at a look-out point which gave her a sweeping view of the plain below.

Breathing hard, Gryff leaned against the wooden railing. In the cool night air, she could feel the blood drying on her bare arms, stiffening the knees of her BDUs. 

“It should have been me,” she muttered. “I’m their leader, I’m supposed to protect them. It should have been me! Why wasn’t it me?”

“Because it was not your time,” said a voice.

Gryff whirled to see a woman standing suddenly beside her. At first, she thought that the woman’s white gown was simply standing out against the dark woods, but a second later, she realized she was actually glowing faintly.

“Who are you?” Gryff demanded.

“A friend,” the woman replied. “Although, technically, I’m also family.”

“You’re an Ancient.”

The woman nodded. “I am of the race you call Ancients, yes. My name is Ygraine.”

“Funny, so’s mine,” said Gryff, dryly.

The Ancient— Ygraine— scowled. “I have come to help you, child. My kind, those who have Ascended, are forbidden from interfering in mortal lives. But in this instance, I might… bend the rules a little.”

“Yeah?” asked Gryff. “How’s that?”

She scowled again, looking just like Gryff’s mother did when she was starting to lose her patience— maybe they were related, after all.

“By showing you how this reality would be different had you not been born,” Ygraine said, shortly.

Gryff arched an eyebrow. “You know, that wasn’t exactly my question.”

“Do you want my help or not?” snapped Ygraine.

“Fine,” said Gryff, and took her hand.

There was a blinding flash of light, and Gryff blacked out before she hit the ground. She woke in the SGC infirmary, with the same nurse leaning over her. 

“How are you feeling, ma’am?”

Gryff blinked. “What happened?”

“They said you collapsed,” said the nurse. “But you don’t seem injured. If Dr. Fraiser says it’s all right, you can head back to Groom Lake tonight.”

“Groom Lake?” Gryff repeated. “Area 51? Why would I go there?”

“Your records say you’re stationed there, ma’am. But I’ll double-check…”

When she turned away, Ygraine appeared beside Gryff’s bed. “She can’t see me,” said the Ancient. Only you can, and you don’t exist here. Well, not _you_ you. Here, you’re Captain Smith, visiting from Nevada.”

Gryff ignored her. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, but when her fingers closed around the side, she stared— her arms were pale, without a trace of blood.

“You don’t exist here,” Ygraine repeated. “You didn’t go on that mission this morning, and you didn’t carry any bleeding Marines back through the ‘gate.”

“Jason,” said Gryff, as the nurse came back. “Lieutenant, where is Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks?”

The woman frowned. “Ma’am, maybe you should lie down…”

Gryff pushed to her feet. “Jason Vicks, where is he?”

Jason was something of a flirt, especially with the infirmary staff, but the nurse shook her head. “I don’t know him, ma’am.”

“What about Walter Tobias?” Gryff asked.

“Who?”

Gryff straightened. “Is there any reason to keep me here, lieutenant?”

“Well, no, ma’am. As soon as Dr. Fraiser—”

“She’ll know where to find me,” Gryff interrupted. “I need to speak to the general.”

Before the nurse could protest, Gryff headed out of the infirmary, Ygraine still beside her. “Why the general?” the Ancient woman asked.

“Because if anyone knows what’s going on in this dimension, or reality, or whatever, it’ll be General Hammond,” said Gryff. “And he’ll know exactly what to do.”

Rounding the next corner, she froze. The entire corridor was lined with service photographs, the most prominent belonging to George Hammond. A plaque above it read _He gave his life for his country and his world_.

“Do not tell me my nonexistence got the general killed,” she snapped.

“No, of course not,” said Ygraine. “But you and your team did make a difference here. You didn’t save the world, like SG-1 did on a regular basis, but every time you were captured by a minor Goa’uld and escaped, you disrupted their resources. Every freed mine worker you returned to their homeworld spread the word that the Goa’uld were false gods. Without you, their influence went unbroken.”

“Right,” Gryff snorted. She turned back to the photographs. “But these people are all dead.”

She knew the names that belonged to every one of these faces, these friends. Including— “Toby!”

She raised a shaking hand to touch the frame of a picture just like all the others. “How?” she demanded.

“Without you,” said Ygraine, “Lieutenant Tobias was never assigned to SG-22. He never went off-world, never learned to look after himself. When he was called to join SG-4 to rebuild an irrigation system on a friendly world, they were attacked by enemy Jaffa. No one survived.”

Gryff closed her eyes briefly, then frantically searched the wall again. “Jason’s picture isn’t here.”

Ygraine nodded, somberly. “Jason Vicks never joined the SGC. He died in Afghanistan, attempting to evacuate the staff of General Rodriguez’s office.”

“But I—” Gryff stopped herself. “I didn’t here, did I? I wasn’t there, to send the rest of the staff out after Rodriguez ordered us to stay. And when the Marines came in, everyone was still there. Jason died in Afghanistan, didn’t he?”

The Ancient nodded.

“But what about— Levi!” 

The sociologist wasn’t pictured on the memorial wall, but real and alive, standing on the other side of the corridor with a pile of papers. He stopped, looking around in confusion.

“Levi,” Gryff said again, grinning as she stopped beside him.

She reached out to touch his arm, and Levi flinched, looking so small and fragile that it made Gryff’s heart ache.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

Gryff swallowed. “No. No, you don’t. But I know you. Dr. Levi Flannigan. You drink your tea with honey. You love to read mysteries and watch documentaries on PBS. You won’t eat purple jelly beans, for no particular reason, and you never remember to check your answering machine. You’re one of the bravest man I’ve ever met.”

His eyes had widened, but then he frowned. “You don’t know me, then. I’m not brave at all.”

“Of course you are,” she said, sadly. “You’re the bravest of us.”

Gryff had faced Jaffa warriors twice her size, insurmountable odds and certain death without so much as flinching, but the sight of a man she loved so fiercely it sometimes scared her, looking at her with a stranger’s eyes, made her want to cry.

Levi shifted awkwardly. “Are you…? I mean… I’m sorry, maybe you ought to go to the infirmary?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you, Levi— Dr. Flannigan. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

He opened his mouth, looked around awkwardly again, then closed it and left.

Gryff whirled on her ‘guide’. “What the hell is the point of this?” she demanded.

“You were feeling sorry for yourself,” Ygraine told her, flatly. “Yes, perhaps your life didn’t change the world. But you did change the lives of three good men, who willingly put themselves in danger for you. Because they love you.”

“I know,” Gryff breathed. “I know they do. That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No,” the Ancient agreed. “But does that mean you can disregard their sacrifices by running away?”

“You know, it’s really annoying that you’re right.”

Ygraine smiled. “Are you ready to go back, then?”

“Hell, yes,” said Gryff. “Let’s go, Grandma.”

There was another blinding flash, and Gryff found herself lying on the side of the hiking trail. As she sat up, the knees of her BDUs creaked— they were stiff with dried blood, and more flaked down her bare arms.

Gryff shot to her feet— she was back!

Suddenly, headlights appeared on the road, and her own battered Jeep came to a stop beside her. The side door opened, even before it had fully stopped, and a person shot out.

“Gryff!” cried Levi, flinging himself into her arms.

She caught him automatically, her brain still a step behind. “Levi?”

“Gryff, you’re freezing!” he said. “Why don’t you have a coat? No, never mind. Where have you been? One of the nurses said you just ran.”

“I needed some air,” she said.

A large, warm jacket settled over her shoulders. “That doesn’t mean you need to catch pneumonia, Gryff,” said Toby.

“Yeah, sir,” added Jason.

Gryff reached for them both, without letting go of Levi, pulling them all into a big tangle.

“Hey,” said Toby. “Hey, Gryff, we’re okay.”

“I thought…” she began.

“It was just a graze,” said Jason, softly. “Doc says head wounds bleed a lot, but I’m okay.”

“She also said you’d gotten us back just in time,” Levi added. He must have found a spare pair of glasses, because the frames were digging into her shoulder, but Gryff didn’t move. “And you did such a good job bandaging Toby’s arm that he didn’t even need stitches.”

“I did?” she breathed.

Toby pulled back to look at her. “Gryff, did something happen?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, with a shaky laugh. “Yeah, it did. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay. But let’s get you home.”

“Home,” she repeated, with a genuine smile. “Let’s go.”


	20. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things are broken in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "the sound of breaking glass"

The sound of breaking glass was immediately followed by a string of curses, and Toby dropped the paper he’d been skimming to race for the kitchen.

Gryff was standing at the counter, a shattered drinking glass at her feet, holding her cast-covered left arm awkwardly out in front of her. “Dammit,” she muttered, “I just—”

“Don’t move!” Toby ordered, hurrying toward her.

As always when she was home, Gryff was barefoot and she wasn’t paying enough attention just now not to hurt herself. He grabbed a towel and swept up the pieces, then grabbed Gryff’s elbow and towed her toward one of the kitchen chairs. Toby looked her over, carefully. She was wearing a too-big t-shirt with the Rebel Alliance symbol from _Star Wars_ and the sweat pants Jason had gotten her the last time he’d been on a fitness kick, which she hadn’t worn again since.

“Hey,” he asked. “You okay?”

She sighed. “I can’t do anything,” she mumbled. “It took me twenty minutes to get dressed today, and I’m not even wearing a bra under this.”

“I could have done without knowing that,” said Toby. It got him a half-hearted glare, but it was better than nothing. “Doc said you were healing nicely. A couple more weeks and you’ll be good as new.”

“ _This_ time,” said Gryff. “This time, it was me, but I’m not— I’ve _tried_ , trained, but I’m still—”

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” said Toby, grabbing her waving hands to give himself a moment to figure that out. 

He sighed. He thought they’d gotten Gryff over this weird idea that she was their team’s weak link, but apparently not. Toby rubbed his thumb over the fingers sticking out of her cobalt-blue cast, silently wondering why Jason and Levi had picked _right then_ to go grocery shopping.

“Gryff,” he said. “I’m about ready to call Dr. Fraiser and have her check your brain scans again, because you must have some kind of concussion. Otherwise you would remember that you broke your arm _saving my life_.”

“Toby—”

“No, Gryff. If you hadn’t stopped that Jaffa, I’d be dead now. You put yourself in danger, you were badly injured, saving me, and I am beyond grateful. Get it?”

Gryff took a deep breath. “Yeah,” she said, after a long moment. “Yeah, I get it. Thanks for letting me rant, though.”

Toby squeezed her fingers gently, and let her go. “I still owe you one,” he said. “Now, how about that glass of water?”

“Actually,” she said. “How about some coffee?”

He grinned. “Coming right up.”


	21. Flea Market Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 finds a bit more at the flea market than a lamp for their living room (but they do find that, too).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "antique" & "triangles"

“Hey, guys, what about this one?” asked Levi.

Gryff looked up from where she had been examining a shelf of dog-eared paperbacks, scanning the outdoor flea market until she spotted the sociologist. She frowned at the… whatever… he was standing beside.

“Lee?” asked Jason, who was nearer to him. “What is that?”

His smile fell slightly. “It’s a lamp,” he said, and if Gryff tilted her head, it did sort of resemble one. “I thought it could go in the living room.”

“Not _my_ living room,” put in Toby. “And since we share it, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Now, boys,” said Gryff, grinning. She crossed to join them, keeping her left arm, in its bright blue cast, close to her chest to avoid bumping it. She’d gotten a hairline fracture on SG-22’s latest mission-turned-forced-mining-labor, the worst injury she’d had off-world, and the team was on down time until she healed. She had another two weeks to go, and her arm hardly hurt at all— she’d even given up wearing her sling most of the time, barely noticing the cast’s extra weight anymore.

When she came up beside them, all three of her men were examining the lamp, Levi looking interested, the other two more vaguely disturbed. “What do you think, Gryff?” Levi asked.

It was a truly awful, gaudy, outdated monstrosity— but she’d never actually _say_ that. “It’s… It’s kind of too tall, Lee,” she said, instead. “I don’t think it’ll fit on the end tables. Do you think we could find something shorter?”

Levi sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll look!”

He darted off in the other direction, and Toby smiled. “Thanks, Gryff.”

She snorted. “Hey, it’s my living room, too.”

“Stop!” yelled a voice, suddenly. “Thief!”

The little old lady who had a stand selling books right by the entrance had fallen to the ground, one hand to her chest, the other pointing after a kid who took off running. 

“Toby, Jason,” snapped Gryff, but her men were already moving. “Levi, stay with her.”

“Right, Gryff,” the sociologist told her. As Gryff ran after them, she saw him kneel beside the woman before she rounded the corner and they were out of sight.

The kid was ahead of them, a metal cashbox under his arm, but Toby and Jason were quickly catching up. Gryff was a fast runner, but as she passed an alley, she had a sudden idea. The kid kept darting looks at the two men chasing him, and hadn’t noticed her, so Gryff ducked into an alley, taking a shortcut between two buildings that would lead her back out into the street— _ahead_ of the juvenile delinquent.

She could hear Jason shouting from somewhere to her left and put on a burst of speed, ducking under a half-fallen sign for a sidewalk sale and coming out just ahead of the three men. The thief tried to change direction, but Gryff brought her arm up sharply and her casted forearm connected with his face with a sickening _crunch_.

“ _By nobe!_ ” he squealed.

“Probably broken,” said Toby, completely unsympathetic, grabbing the kid by his collar.

Jason snagged the cashbox before it could hit the ground. “Sir, you okay?”

Gryff grinned and held up her arm, cast and all. “Not even a scratch.”

The police met them at the flea market, and the members of SG-22 gave their statements. A retired nurse who’d been shopping took a look at the thief’s nose— which was, in fact, broken— and at Gryff’s arm.

“I don’t think there’s any damage,” she said, to the reluctant redhead. “But make sure your doctor takes another x-ray before it comes off for good. And wear some gloves, it’s getting cold out here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Gryff. “But I didn’t bring any.”

“Wear mine, Gryff,” said Toby. “And— hey, that looks like a lamp.”

On a table in a corner sat something that looked more like an abstract sculpture, a series of connected triangles that shone somehow brighter than glass.

“It’s beautiful,” said Gryff. “How old do you think it is?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Levi. “Older than us, definitely.”

“We’ll take it,” Jason told the stall owner, and handed over the money. “This’ll look great on the end table.”

And it did.

“Nice,” said Gryff, as they stood admiring the glow of the lightbulb through the frosted glass. “Now let’s—”

“—get some rest, sir,” Jason interrupted. “You remember what Doc Fraiser said.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “ _Get plenty of rest, captain, or that arm won’t heal._ Do you really think she meant that?”

“You want to take that risk?” Toby countered. “Actually, we could all do with a rest.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and turned off the living room lights.

Gryff started for the stairs, and her un-casted hand brushed the polished-triangle glass of the lamp. The rest of SG-22 headed upstairs right behind her, so none of them saw the lamp slowly start to glow blue…


	22. The Fifteenth Naquadah Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 reaches an off-world milestone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (write 500 words)

Captain Igraine Gryffydd opened her eyes, looked around, and immediately closed them again. “Oh, come on!”

SG-22 had been on a routine mission to PX-250, doing a final recon to check for any nasty surprises the first two teams had missed, before a science contingent arrived at the end of the week, when they had run smack into exactly such a surprise, in the form of a Jaffa patrol. They had managed to get off a few shots, but they’d been greatly outnumbered, and all four had fallen to enemy ‘zat blasts.

Gryff put a hand to her pounding head and sat up. “SG-22, sound off!”

From the other side of the dim stone chamber, a figure stirred. “Sir?” said Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks. “ _Please_ do not tell me we are in another naquadah mine.”

“Sorry, Jase,” said First Lieutenant Walter Tobias. “The architecture is pretty distinctive.”

“Especially to us,” agreed Gryff. “Levi, you okay?”

“No,” said Dr. Levi Flannigan. “I’m dead. They’ve finally killed me.”

“You’re not dead, Lee,” said Jason. He was the closest, so he leaned over to poke the sociologist’s shoulder. “Come on.”

Tobias stood and started looking around. “Seems like the usual setup. Can you believe that this is our fifteenth naquadah mine?”

“What, seriously?” asked Jason. “I think I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down,” Gryff told him. “And how much time, Toby?”

Her second-in-command paused, calculating. “Four months, two weeks and six days, give or take that they took my watch.”

“Seriously?” Jason asked again, just as armor-clanking footsteps sounded outside.

“Hello, gentlemen,” said Gryff, to the here Jaffa warriors. “I understand that the Presidential Suite is already booked, but if you could find us something with a Jacuzzi—”

The lead Jaffa— not a First Prime, she noticed— jabbed the butt of his staff weapon into her ribs, knocking the wind out of her.

“You are prisoners of the Mighty Clivicola. Work and serve her, or die.”

“Sir!” said Jason, indignant, frowning at Gryff. “Do you get us captured by the goddess Cherry Cola?”

“ _Clivi_ cola,” Levi corrected. “Goddess of roads that slope upwards.”

“Silence!” roared the Jaffa. “You will work or you will die!”

“Remind me when we’re back on Earth,” wheezed Gryff, as they followed the Jaffa down the corridor, Toby’s hand under her elbow, “to ask Teal’c if there’s a script all warriors get, or if we just keep getting the dumb ones.”

“Knowing our luck, I’m betting it’s that second one,” said Jason.

“Hey!” said Gryff, loudly. “Is this a union gig? Because if it is, I want to make an appointment with my represent—”

That earned her another jab with the staff weapon, and Levi ducked under her other arm. 

“Careful, Gryff,” he said. “You’ll have broken ribs before we even start our escape and— What?”

She was grinning. “You think we’re going to escape. You’re usually pretty pessimistic about that, Lee.”

“I think that hit knocked you silly,” he muttered, but smiled back.


	23. A Crazy Bunch of Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Toby! Come and join us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "Nicest Kids in Town (Hairspray)"

There was a musical on the TV.

That didn’t bother Toby as much as it might have a few years ago— Gryff and Levi were both fans of the genre, and he’d probably seen a good percentage of them now.

No, the real thing that made him stop still in the living room doorway was all three of his teammates in the middle of the floor, dancing along to the musical number.

“Toby!” said Gryff, when she spotted him. “It’s just started. Come and join us.”

He blinked, then turned to hang up his coat. “Sure, why the hell not?”


	24. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I stumbled as I hit the ramp back into the SGC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (write in first person)

I stumbled as soon as I hit the ramp back into the SGC, partly because I had been running for so long that my legs were protesting any more motion, but mostly because I had been half-carrying Jason and he’d chosen that moment to finally pass out.

“Medic!” I yelled, trying to keep him from hitting the floor too hard. Jason was breathing, I could tell that much, but until we had stopped, I hadn’t realized how badly he was bleeding.

“Oh, god,” I muttered. “Oh, god, oh, god—”

Janet Fraiser and three of her nurses hurried into the Gate Room. “Levi, what happened?”

I tried to remember. “He was stabbed,” I told her. Gryff or Toby would know how many times, and where, and what kind of weapon, but I drew a blank. “And drugged, I think, or… oh, god, or poisoned! Janet—”

“We’ll check for drugs and poisons,” she said. “Lieutenant, get Sergeant Vicks ready for surgery…”

I didn’t realize I’d been holding Jason’s hand until the nurses pulled me away. “Is he—?” I breathed. 

“We’ll take care of him,” said Janet, as they left.

“Dr. Flannigan,” said General Hammond, voice low but urgent. “What happened?”

“We were attacked, sir. Another tribe of natives. Or perhaps a more nomadic unit, since the people we met had a structured town and— Sorry. It was… I don’t know exactly, sir, it all happened so fast. Jason got stabbed, started fading in and out, so Gryff and Toby told me to bring him back. They stayed to help the villagers. They— we left them behind.”

“Are they hurt?” the general asked.

“No,” I said. “But they could be—”

The general patted my shoulder. “SG teams One and Three are going after them. We’ll bring them home, son.”

I nodded, and obediently followed one of the nurses when he pulled me toward the infirmary. He practically walked me through a post-mission exam, but my mind was with Jason, and I stayed exactly where he’d left me when it was over. After what seemed like an eternity, Janet came in and I bolted from my chair.

“Jason—”

“—will be fine,” she interrupted, then smiled. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked, and you helped a lot by getting him back here so quickly.

“Can I see him?”

We both knew the question was a formality. Gate teams are, by nature, close-knit and SG-22 was no exception. I was going to sit with Jason no matter what, and Janet seemed to understand that.

“He’s still sedated,” she said. “Let someone know when he wakes up.”

Jason looked much better than the last time I’d seen him, but entirely too still. There were bandages along both of his arms, and smaller nicks that hadn’t made it under the gauze. Without thinking, I reached for his hand again. Jason was always so warm, but feeling that warmth was especially comforting just then.

The heart monitor beeped steadily and I felt my shoulders relax, just a little. Gryff and Toby were out there somewhere, but I still had Jason. It was our deepest fear, each of us, that someday we would be the only one left. I had seen the flash of icy darkness in Gryff’s eyes when one of us was hurt, the glimpse of Toby’s calculating anger and Jason’s tightly-bound rage. I didn’t like to think what I might be capable of if I suddenly lost these three people.

Jason shifted a little in his sleep, and I squeezed his hand automatically. I thought about moving to sit in the chair beside his bed, but I was starting to come down from the adrenaline of our escape. I felt tired and irrationally scared that if I went too far, something would happen to Jason, too.

There was a little bit of empty space on the bed, so I kicked off my shoes and carefully climbed in next to Jason. Gryff did this sometimes, but I had never been brave enough before. I’d have to move, I knew that, before someone came in and saw us— Jason was a Marine, and he had that tough-guy image to maintain. But not too soon. I rested my forehead against his shoulder, listening to the rhythmic thump of his heart, and closed my eyes.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next time I opened my eyes, I found a very wide-awake Jason staring back at me. 

“Jason!” I said, bolting upright. “You’re okay!”

He smiled. “Yeah, I think so.”

For a long moment, we just smiled at each other, before I realized where we were. 

“Oh, sorry,” I said, starting to move away.

Jason’s hand caught my elbow. “Hey…”

“But somebody could come in,” I said, glancing around nervously.

“Doc’s already been in,” said Jason. “And a couple of nurses.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I meant to leave before they could see—”

“See what?” Jason asked, frowning. “See my friend being worried about me? Falling asleep because he’d worn himself out dragging my sorry butt back through the ‘gate? Because I have no problem with that.”

“Oh,” I said softly. 

Jason squeezed my elbow. “Doc says you saved my life, Lee. I was pretty out of it, but I know I couldn’t have gotten back without you.”

“You’ve done the same for me,” I said. “But Gryff and Toby are—”

“Gryff and Toby are what?” asked a woman’s voice, and I nearly fell off the bed.

Jason tightened his grip on my arm, at the same time that Gryff caught my other shoulder, keeping me upright as I turned to grin at her and Toby.

The bottom half of Gryff’s t-shirt had been torn off, revealing the usual array of bruises, and the missing fabric had been wrapped around Toby’s arm, but both were smiling.

“Hey,” said Toby. “You guys both okay?”

I shared a look with Jason, and we both grinned back. “Yeah,” I said for both of us. “We’re okay.”


	25. Meanwhile, Off-World (Back Home Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby and Gryff stay behind after Levi and Jason go back to Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (remix another story)

One minute, we had been making polite small talk with the leaders of the town, and the next, we were under attack.

SG-15 had only made contact with the town nearest to the ‘gate, but they’d been warned against the rival nomadic tribe, a group that operated a bit like the old Mongols, even though these people were probably from somewhere in Europe. There weren’t many of them, but they had clearly planned this attack well, striking quickly and effectively.

“Get everyone inside!” yelled Gryff, to the townspeople, firing her P-90 into the ground as a scare tactic.

It didn’t really work.

The nomads were too close for a range weapon, too few among the panicking townspeople. Levi grabbed a group of kids with their tiny goat-like creatures and steered them toward the headman’s house, physically towing the slower ones along. Jason and Gryff took up position by the main road, and I joined them. Some of the villagers had swords, and the fight began to feel a bit more even.

Then, suddenly, there was a scuffle beside us, and I whirled to see one of the nomadic attackers stab Jason in the ribs. The man was immediately downed, two shots to the chest, from Gryff and I both, and we raced toward Jason.

He had a hand clamped over his ribs, blood welling around his fingers. “I’m okay,” he gasped. “I’m…”

Jason swayed on his feet, and I caught him. “Jase?”

“I don’t feel so good,” he muttered.

Gryff steadied him on his other side. “Levi,” she said, sharply. “Get him back to the ‘gate. Now. Go through the woods, we’ll divert their attention.”

The sociologist ducked under Jason’s arm. “But, Gryff.”

“ _Go_. Don’t stop, don’t slow down, get him home.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

I watched them go for a moment, until they had disappeared into the trees, then turned to Gryff. “Plan?”

“Kick some ass,” she said, and I snorted a laugh.

“Captain,” said one of the village fighters, a man named Nandan. “The enemy has retreated, but our scouts report another thirty men coming to join them.”

“Well, crap,” said Gryff. “Nandan, what can we do?”

He paused. “The men of SG-15 had weapons that exploded. The enemy warriors are approaching on the main road— if we are swift, we can lay a trap for them.”

Gryff turned to me, silently asking my opinion, and I nodded. “Then we’d better hurry.”

The main road to the village ran along the base of a hill, comprised mostly of loose and sharp-looking rocks. It was a gentle slope, not terribly good for an ambush, but it was all that we had.

“Toby?” asked Gryff. 

“I’ve got three claymores,” I said. “I say we plant them in the road. Then a block of C-4 halfway up the hill and— Gryff, do you have any grenades?”

“Silly question,” she replied.

“Great. Then here’s what we’ll do…”

The second batch of nomads was on horseback— and every single horse reared, panicking, when I blew the claymores. Half of their riders tumbled off, trying to get control of the situation, when Gryff set off the C-4, sending half the hill down on them. From my position behind the trees, I could just see her at the top of the hill, arm drawn back to lob the grenade that would seal off the escape route once the horses had fled.

I ducked as the rocks pelted down, but when I looked again, the entire road was still.

“Gryff!” I called into my radio, worried. I approached the hill from the other side, careful to keep out of sight in case any nomads had missed the stoning. “Gryff!”

My radio crackled. “ _Little help here?_ ” Gryff asked.

I caught sight of standard-issue green among the gray rocks, and found her stumbling back down the hill toward me. “Slight miscalculation,” she said, when we were within earshot. “I took a bit of a tumble, but I’m okay. Which is more than I can say for these guys. They’re—”

“Hey, look out!” I saw a large slap of rock wobble, somewhere above us, and grabbed Gryff’s shoulders, spinning her away from the sudden shower of rocks. A couple of smaller ones hit me, probably hard enough to bruise, but I didn’t turn and look until they stopped. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gryff said. “But you’re not. Hold still.”

I was confused, until she poked at my arm and it hurt, a lot. We’d left our first aid gear behind with the townspeople, so Gryff tore off the bottom hem of her t-shirt and wrapped it around my bicep. 

“The bleeding’s slowed already,” she said. “You should be fine.”

“Captain!” Two of the village boys raced up. “The Chapa’aii opens!”

Gryff and I grabbed our weapons, and hurried to the village. My CO burst out laughing when she saw who accompanied the village defenders.

“You’re a little late, sir!” she called, and Colonel O’Neill smiled.

“Your teammates seemed to think you were in trouble, captain.”

“Who, us?” she asked, grinning, because he’d said _teammates_ , plural, and that meant Jason was okay.

“SG-3’s gonna stay here,” he said. “But I think you’d better get yourselves home.”

Gryff saluted, lazily. “Yes, sir.”


	26. Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gryff, are you okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "a problem that I cannot explain" & "hurt/comfort"

“Gryff?” asked Levi softly. “Gryff, are you okay?”

She nodded, almost managing a smile. “Yeah, Lee. I’m okay.”

Not that long ago, he would have believed her, but Levi had been stuck in too many naquadah mines on too many worlds not to recognize when Gryff was in pain and trying to hide it.

“You are not,” he told her bluntly. “You know we hate it when you’re hurt and you don’t tell us.”

“I’m not—” she began, and that was definitely a wince. “I’m not _hurt_.”

“You took a pretty good hit, sir,” Jason reminded her. “A couple of good ones.”

“Maybe. But I’m fine,” Gryff insisted. “I’m just cold, that’s all.”

Their jackets had been confiscated along with the rest of their gear, as usual, but naquadah mines were generally too stifling for them to notice. This one was a little cooler than average, but not enough that Gryff should actually be cold.

Levi shared a confused look with Toby, who said, “You’re not sick, are you?”

“ _No_ ,” Gryff snapped, pulling her crossed arms tighter to her body. “I’m not hurt, and I’m not sick, so could you all just go away and leave me to be miserable in peace?”

“I—” Toby began, then frowned like he did when he was doing math in his head. “Oh. It’s, um, pretty bad this time, huh?”

Her glare softened slightly. “What do you think?”

He smiled back at her. “I think you’re a braver man than I am, Igraine Gryffydd.”

Gryff managed a tiny smile of her own. “And it I _was_ a man, I wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“Oh!” said Jason, too loudly, then winced. “Sorry, sir. But isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Not unless you have some chocolate. Or a heating pad.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, sir— Wait. Maybe.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “You have chocolate?”

“No,” said Jason. “But, um, where does it hurt, sir? Not, um…?”

“No,” she said. “My lower back, actually. It always aches a little, but it’s really bad today.”

“Okay. Let me just… No, lieutenant, can you move… yeah…”

In a few moments, he’d gotten them all rearranged in their corner of the crowded barracks, so that Jason’s knee was pressed up against Gryff’s back, Levi was tucked against her side, and her other shoulder— which she hadn’t even known was aching— leaning comfortably against Toby’s back.

“Oh, that’s much better,” she said. “Have I mentioned that I love you guys?”

Levi smiled. “Not lately, Gryff. But we know.”


	27. Flash Flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thunderstorm was a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "bewildered wretches" & "this is your fault" & "grouchy"

All of the MALP data and visits by two other teams had described the area around the stargate on PX-890 as an arid desert, and for the first seven hours of SG-22’s mission, the weather had been hot and dry, with a few fluffy clouds overhead.

Which was why the thunderstorm was such a surprise.

Gryff, Toby, Jason and Levi had been documenting some ruins on the currently-uninhabited planet, so that the science teams coming later would have a better idea of what they’d find. They’d done a rough survey map, taken measurements in various locations and were moving on to more-or-less random photography when Levi found the carvings in the wall of a small canyon.

“The geeks’ll want to know about this,” said Jason. “Sorry— anthropologists.”

As he began taking pictures, Toby leaned in for a closer look. “This isn’t just dirt,” he said. “I think this is covered in dried mud.”

“Mud?” Gryff repeated. “But where would this planet get—”

Almost on cue, the skies opened up. Rain pelted down in huge drops, soaking them in seconds, but before the members of SG-22 could move for cover, there was a sudden roar. The tiny stone corridor became a fast-moving river and they were swept along with it. Twice, Gryff was slammed against something softer than the stone walls, but she couldn’t turn fast enough to catch hold of them. It was all she could do to keep her head above water, then suddenly the river widened, slowing enough for Gryff to actually start swimming. She reached the side of the canyon and hauled herself out of the water.

A few yards away, Jason was doing the same— he tottered back to his feet to collapse beside her.

“The others?” he asked.

Gryff shook her head. “I haven’t— no, wait!”

Toby and Levi bobbed to the surface, and they hurried to haul them out of the water. “Okay,” said Toby, when he’d gotten his breath back, shouting to be heard over the continuing storm. “What the hell just happened?”

“Flash flood,” Levi coughed. “The ground was too dry to absorb even a fraction of this rain water, so it had to go somewhere.”

“And it took us with it,” said Jason, then he squinted into the rain. “Can anybody see the ‘gate from here?”

They all shook their heads.

Jason scowled and poked Levi’s shoulder. “This is all your fault,” he said.

“How was I supposed to know there was going to be a flash flood?” Levi protested. “I’m not a meteorologist.”

Gryff used Toby’s shoulder for leverage to get to her feet, boots squelching loudly. She helped Toby up, too, then Jason, who dragged Levi along with him.

“I hate being wet,” Jason whined, sounding more like a kindergartener than a Marine. “My shoes are wet. My socks are wet. My _underwear_ is wet—”

“Do we really need to hear about your underwear?” muttered Toby.

Jason ignored him. “It’s _wet_ , and _windy_ and now we’re going to have to walk all the way back to the ‘gate…”

“We’re all wet,” said Gryff, in her Team Leader voice. “If we want to ever be dry again, we have to get back to the ‘gate. We’ll follow the river— it got us here, so it can get us back. Okay?”

Toby nodded. “Lead the way, Gryff.”

As they started off, Jason fell into step with Levi, reaching out to catch the other man’s arm. “I know it isn’t really your fault, Lee,” he said, softly.

The sociologist smiled. “That’s okay.”


	28. Golden Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, SG-22 _doesn’t_ end up in a naquadah mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "golden"

Sometimes, when they stepped through the stargate, they didn’t end up in a naquadah mine. Sometimes, SG-22 took a long walk through meadows full of wildflowers and sun-dappled woods to reach a village where they were greeted by a swarm of giggling children.

“Welcome, welcome!” called Arietta, one of the village elders, as they approached. She had flour on her skirt, and leaned in the doorway of her house with a mixing bowl in her hands. “You’re early!”

Gryff smiled at her. “We made good time,” she said. “Levi only made us stop twice.”

“Hey,” the sociologist protested, but with a smile.

“But early is better than late,” said Toby.

“And we brought presents!” added Jason, holding up a soccer ball.

Arietta shook her head, fondly. “You should not spoil them so,” she said, smiling.

Jason and the children dragged a protesting Levi out to an open field for a game that was almost similar to soccer. Two of the other village leaders, Jorbath and Emer, came to ask Toby’s opinion on the plans for a new building, leaving Gryff to stay and talk with Arietta. In the warmer months, it was customary to conduct all business sitting outside in the soft blue-ish-green grass that surrounded the village, and the two women made themselves comfortable. Arietta was the town record-keeper, and Gryff enjoyed swapping stories with her.

The sun set over the distant hills as they talked, painting everything with warm golden light. She leaned back on her elbows, to let one of Arietta’s little granddaughters tuck brightly-colored flowers into her hair.

Sometimes, Gryff forgot that missions could be like this, too. SG-22 was a tertiary contact team, as they half-jokingly called themselves, and while they were often sent to keep up dialogues with off-world communities, the SGC didn’t actually have that many allies who hadn’t been devastated by the Goa’uld. It was a nice change to bring just-in-case medical supplies, instead of desperately-needed ones, and even nicer to visit a place where they could bring toys and laughter.

“I’m out of flowers, Grandmama,” said a little voice, from somewhere behind Gryff.

“That’s all right, kiddo,” Gryff told her. “I’m sure it looks great.”

“Yes, it does,” Arietta agreed. 

“Really?” the girl asked.

“Of course,” said Gryff. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she replied, and raced off.

“Is it bad?” Gryff asked Arietta, when her granddaughter had gone.

The older woman laughed. “It is not… exactly even. But I think you look charming.”

“Hey, nice hair, Gryff.” She looked up to see Toby standing over her. He patted down the pockets of his tac vest, then held out his small shaving mirror. “Take a look.”

Gryff usually wore her hair braided around her head, and Arietta’s granddaughter had tucked the slim-stemmed flowers into nearly every twist. There were a few more on the left side, and the girl had put groups of the same color together, but it really did look sort of charming.

“Nice,” she said.

Toby grinned and offered her a hand up, then did the same for Arietta. “Ladies, we’ve been invited to come inside for dinner. And the children are getting impatient.”

“I hope you’re including Jason and Levi in that group,” said Gryff.

He smiled. “Don’t I always?”


	29. Copper for a Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At an off-world market, Gryff makes a trade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (based on a cliché)

When spring came on P9X-1143, the people from the villages surrounding the stargate held a huge outdoor market. SG-22 had arrived the day before it started, delivering a supply of medicines, and the locals had invited them to stay.

“There will be a great celebration,” said Marta Ivansdotir, headwoman of the first village that SG-11 had made contact with several months before. “A feast, with music and dancing to welcome the new year.” But she’d waved off their offers to help with the preparations and shooed them toward the market.

It was certainly something to see. Stalls and carts of all shapes and colors crowded into the wide meadow just beyond the ‘gate, selling fruit and ceramic pottery, fabrics and jewelry, various things made of bronze, iron or silver. Jason stopped at every metal-smith, eying the range of hand-forged blades, Toby was often as intrigued by the design of the stalls as by what they were selling and Levi flitted between the merchants, fascinated by _everything_ , but nothing had really caught Gryff’s attention until they came across an elderly man selling copper pots and pans.

But, half-hidden in a corner of his brightly-painted cart, was a much smaller piece. It was copper, too, the figure of a bird with outstretched wings, clasping silk ribbons in a rich royal blue. Gryff had seen ladies wearing similar decorations in their elaborate updos, but this was by far the loveliest she’d seen.

The rest of her team wandered past her as Gryff wiped her fingers on her BDU pants, making sure they were clean before she reached out to touch it gently.

“Ah,” said the peddler. “I was wondering when someone would spot that.”

“It’s beautiful,” Gryff told him, sincerely.

He smiled. “It would look even prettier in lovely copper hair like yours.”

She smiled back. “I’m afraid we’re only window shopping— I mean, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any currency.”

Jason leaned over her shoulder, suddenly, then looked up at the peddler. “Could we barter for it?”

“Jason…” Gryff protested.

He ignored her. “Sir?”

“Oh, certainly, a barter,” said the other man. “I prefer it, truth be told.”

“We don’t have very much to trade, either,” said Gryff. “We have to return our equipment when we go back to our world.”

“Your equipment does not interest me,” said the peddler. “However, I believe you do have something that I would gladly take in payment for this piece: a song.”

“A song?” Gryff repeated. “Just a song?”

“Are the most precious things always ones we can hold in our hands?” he replied. “I made the item that is for trade, and I can ask whatever price I think fair. Why shouldn’t I trade one beautiful thing for another?”

Gryff smiled. “But how do you know I can sing?”

He laughed. “You have a singer’s voice, young woman, even when you speak. One song, that is my price.”

“Then I accept,” said Gryff. 

“Excellent! I am ready to hear it, if that is acceptable to you.”

“Sure,” she replied. “A beautiful song, right? Jase, what do you think?”

The Marine paused, thinking. “I’ve always liked that one you sing along to at Christmas. With the really high notes?”

“Oh, that one. Yes.” To the peddler, she said, “This song is called _O Holy Night_. On our world, many people believe in a god who was born as a human, who then grew up and died to save the souls of his followers. Once a year, they celebrate what they think is his birthday, with lights and presents, and lots of songs like this one.”

Gryff took a deep breath, and began to sing. It had been a while since she had done much more than sing along with the radio, but her voice remembered the notes, rising and falling and soaring with the high notes. When she finished, her team applauded, and the peddler rested a hand over his heart.

“How beautiful!” he said, “Thank you.” He picked up the hair clip and placed it in her hand. “I feel I have gotten the better deal in this trade.”

“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” said Gryff. She slid her fingers along one of the ribbons, which slithered like water to hang down again.

“Here, sir, let me,” said Jason. He’d gotten pretty good at helping Gryff with her hair when she’d sprained a wrist or broken some ribs, and in a few moments, he’d settled the copper bird in her hair, artfully weaving the ribbons into the braid coiled around her head.

“Looks great, Gryff,” said Toby.

She smiled and held out a hand to the peddler. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m Gryff— Captain Gryffydd, SG-22. This is Sergeant Jason Vicks, Lieutenant Walter Tobias and Dr. Levi Flannigan.”

He shook her hand, firmly. “Mathias Eliasson,” he said. “Well met, new friends.”


	30. Coping Techniques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 have a way to deal with difficult missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "sound of silence"

Something woke me in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t until the bathroom light clicked on that I realized it was actually the absence of something— or rather, some _one_. Gryff was still asleep beside me, and the large blanket-covered lump on the other side of the bed could only be Jason, which meant Levi was the one who’d gotten up.

I checked the clock on Gryff’s nightstand, which told me it was only a few hours after we’d gotten back from another close-call mission and squashed together in Gryff’s bed. The psychologists at the SGC didn’t exactly approve of sleepovers as a healthy coping technique, but we generally didn’t ask them. It wasn’t even something we talked about among ourselves. We just seemed to know when a mission had been bad enough that we would be uneasy being apart, even when we fell asleep.

Jason rolled onto his back, still fast asleep, one arm stretched into the space where Levi had been lying. He must have been exhausted, because finding one of us missing like that usually woke him up. But he only shifted a little into the warm hollow and stayed asleep.

The bathroom light clicked off, and the bed dipped under Levi’s weight. He could have gone around to the other side and only had Jason to crawl over, but in the dim light I could see that he’d left his glasses on the dresser, and he probably didn’t want to risk a fall that would add any more bruises to our already impressive tally for the day.

Gryff had her legs curled up, cold toes pressed against my shins, so it was easy for Levi to climb into bed without waking her. He wriggled under Jason’s arm, rearranging the blankets to cover most people’s limbs, then flopped back against the pillow.

I slid an arm over Gryff’s waist, careful of her bruised ribs, to brush my fingers against Levi’s elbow. He looked up at me, startled that I was awake, then smiled. Levi curled his hand around my wrist, and I smiled back. 

I fell asleep to Jason’s soft snoring and the beat of Levi’s pulse, with Gryff breathing against my shoulder and when I woke, my bruises didn’t seem to hurt as much as they had before.


	31. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry… who are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "There's nothing inside you that you can't reach (Super Teen)" & "sorrow"

Four hours after they carried him back through the ‘gate, Levi Flannigan blinked up at the rest of his team and said, “I’m sorry… who are you?”

The rockslide on P2X-998 had taken SG-22 by surprise, showering them with small but jagged rocks that left shallow cuts and large bruises on all of them, but Levi was the only one who’d been knocked unconscious. 

Janet ran every test, scan and evaluation she could think of, and came up empty. Levi remembered his name, and pretty much everything up until just after he’d joined the Stargate Program. He’d been a translator and researcher then, and seemed unwilling to believe that he had ever joined an off-world team.

“We just have to be patient,” said Gryff, but after a few days, even hers was wearing thin. They had been taking turns slowly bringing him up to speed, hoping that something would jar his memory, with no success.

SG-22 was on stand-down until Levi was fit to be in the field again, so Gryff had spent the morning in the library, before stopping by the mess to grab lunch for her team. She met Toby coming into the infirmary from the lab where he’d been repairing MALPs— and passed Jason coming out, looking heartbroken.

“Jase…?” asked Toby, as the Marine rushed by them. Inside the isolation room, they could see Levi sitting on his bed, staring wide-eyed in the direction Jason had gone.

Toby shared a look with his CO. “You get Jason, I get Levi?”

“Right,” Gryff agreed.

She handed him the lunch trays and hurried after their teammate. A few minutes later, she nearly tripped over him, sitting against the curved wall in one of the little-used side corridors.

“Hey,” she said softly, dropping down beside him.

Jason looked up at her. “He flinched, sir!” he blurted, unconsciously leaning toward her. “Levi dropped his book, and I went to catch it, and he _flinched_ , like I was going to hurt him. And I wouldn’t— I’d _never_ —!”

“I know, Jase,” said Gryff. “And Levi knows, too. He’s just forgotten that he knows, that’s all.”

Jason nodded, then glanced around to make sure the hallway was clear. “It just… really hurt,” he admitted. “I know he’s lost his memory, but I guess I thought he’d still _know_ me. I mean, Levi’s annoyed at me half the time, and I’ve even gotten him really pissed off a couple of times, but he’s never been scared of me. Never.”

“I don’t think he’s really scared of you, Jason,” said Gryff, patting his knee. “You want to skip team lunch?”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I want to make sure that Levi’s okay.”

She smiled and let him pull them both upright. “You’re a good friend, Jason.”

Levi and Toby met them just inside the infirmary. “I’m sorry,” the sociologist said, looking anxiously at Jason. “I didn’t mean to upset you… and you’ve been so nice to me, for no reason, but I didn’t expect… I didn’t know I could hurt someone’s feelings, so… I’m sorry.”

Jason reached out to pull him into a brief hug. “It’s not for no reason,” he said. “I’m your friend.”

“Oh,” said Levi, looking a little stunned by the contact.

“Yeah,” said Toby, then smiled. “Hey, who’s ready for lunch? Because I am— Look out!”

A passing nurse had bumped a filing cabinet, which wobbled alarmingly, dislodging a pile of heavy medical textbooks that someone had stashed on top of it. They came tumbling down, exactly where Jason was standing. Levi leaned forward and shoved, knocking the Marine out of the way, but he wasn’t quite fast enough himself. A book hit Levi in the back of the head, and sent him crashing into Jason, sprawling them both on the floor.

“Ow,” muttered Jason, who’d landed hard. Then, he realized that Levi was half on top of him— and not moving. “Lee, oh my god…”

The younger man groaned and sat up. He frowned at Jason, then at Gryff and Toby kneeling beside them, then he took a shaky breath and threw his arms around Jason’s neck. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed.

Jason caught them before they could topple over again. “For what?” he asked.

“For— Jason! I forgot you! You’re my best friend— all three of you, you know, but you’re— and I forgot you— Hey!”

The Marine had pulled Levi into a bone-crushing hug. “You remember!” he cried, grinning broadly. “Lee, you’re okay!”

“That knock to the head must have done it,” said Toby, grinning, too. “Why didn’t you let us try that last week?”

“Because unlike MALPs, you can’t generally smack people to make them work again,” Gryff replied. She reached out to grip his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re back, Lee.”

Levi looked around at them. “Yeah, me, too.”


	32. Living Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of SG-22 _officially_ live together now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (random dictionary definition - "proclaim")

“ _This_ is the last box.” Levi proclaimed solemnly, standing in the kitchen doorway and holding up an empty cardboard box. 

The rest of his team didn’t look up.

“The last box of what?” asked Gryff, from where she was paying bills at the kitchen table.

“Of anything,” said Levi. “That was the last box of all of our stuff that we had in boxes when we moved in here.”

“Really?” asked Jason. He stirred a pot on the stove, then held out a spoon to Toby, unloading the dishwasher into the cabinets beside him. “More salt?”

The lieutenant tasted it. “A little salt, maybe. And what was in that last box?”

“Um,” said Levi. “Those research books that I couldn’t find last week.”

Jason gave an obviously fake cough that sounded exactly like _told you so_ , but Levi ignored him.

“And is there any particular reason you needed to come announce that, Lee?” asked Gryff.

“Because it’s the last box,” he said. “Which means that we are officially moved in.”

“That’s kind of… nice, actually,” said Toby. “We should do something to celebrate.”

“Yes, we should,” Gryff agreed. “Jason’s already got dinner going, but let’s go get ice cream afterward.”

“From the farm?” asked Levi. “The one where you can see the cows?”

“Yep,” she said. “Team field trip.”


	33. A Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My room. Ten minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "slumber party"

Gryff appeared in the bathroom doorway while the other three were brushing their teeth.

“My room,” she said. “Ten minutes. Clothing required.”

“Why?” asked Toby, mouth full of toothpaste, then spit it out and frowned. “No, not the clothes part. The your room part.”

Jason frowned. “Are you okay, sir?”

“I’m fine. I just… kind of thought it would be nice to do this without some kind of mental or physical trauma.”

“Just like a slumber party, sir?” asked Jason, smirking.

Levi grinned. “I’ve never been to a slumber party! Can I braid your hair, Gryff?”

She laughed. “Sure, Lee.”


	34. Snowy Clearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 aren’t the main characters of the SGC, but they’re okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "snowfall" & "going home" (bonus: metafiction)

“Why are we always sent to the planets where there’s _weather_?” asked Dr. Levi Flannigan, turning his collar up against the fluffy snowflakes falling softly around them.

“Every planet has weather,” said Captain Igraine Gryffydd. She pulled off one glove so that she could tuck a strand of red-gold hair back under her helmet. “And this isn’t even that bad.”

“Right,” said First Lieutenant Walter Tobias, remotely steering the motorized cart that carried their gear and the scientific samples they’d been gathering to take back to the SGC. “This didn’t even start until after we’d gotten everything packed up.”

“That is true,” Levi agreed, still frowning. “But what about all the others? The flash flood, the hurricane, the golf ball-sized hail, the monsoon—”

“Hey, now,” interrupted Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks, snowflakes catching in his Marine Corps haircut. “There’s no way of knowing if that was actually a monsoon.”

“It rained the entire three days it took for us to get back to the ‘gate,” the sociologist argued. “I thought I’d never be dry again! All I’m asking is, why doesn’t this sort of thing ever happen to SG-1?”

“Because they’re the heroes of this story,” said Gryff. “I’m pretty sure the SG teams were numbered in order of importance. And what number are we?”

“Twenty-two!” cried Toby and Jason, raising their fists triumphantly.

The cart rumbled as it hit the rocks at the side of the dirt trail, and the two men lunged to catch a loose container that wobbled dangerously. Gryff arched an eyebrow at them as they steered it back onto the path, half questioning and half mocking, and Toby grinned back at her.

“But we’re a part of the story, too, Lee,” said Gryff, turning back to smile at the sociologist. “Even if SG-1 are the main characters, they still need a good supporting cast.”

“I think you’re mixing your metaphors a bit, there, Gryff,” said Toby.

“Or just using the wrong one,” put in Jason. “If this was an episode of _Star Trek_ , SG-1 would be the crew of the _Enterprise_ and we’d be the redshirts.”

“ _No_ ,” said Gryff, as Levi spluttered. “We’re not redshirts. We’re…we’re the crew of a different, smaller ship that gets mentioned but is never actually seen.”

Toby snorted a laugh. “That is disturbingly accurate,” he said. “And, Lee, weren’t you TAD with SG-1 before we got you?”

The younger man frowned. “Why would SG-1 have needed a teaching assistant?

“Temporary assigned duty,” said Jason. “C’mon, Lee, learn your military slang.”

Levi ignored that. “Oh. No, I started with SG-2. I’ve never gotten to save the world even once!”

“And you’ve never died, either,” said Toby. “It’s all or nothing with those guys, you know. They’re either saving the world or almost dying in increasingly horrible ways. Personally, I’d rather get thrown in a naquadah mine every other mission than have to fend off certain doom on a weekly basis.

“Well, when you put it like that…” said Levi.

They reached the edge of the trees, and the open glade where the stargate stood. The snow was beginning to stick to the shorter grass there, and had started to drift along one side of the ‘gate platform.

“Okay, Levi, dial us home,” said Gryff.

She moved to help Toby and Jason secure everything on the cart for the bumpy trip back up the stairs to the ‘gate. She hadn’t even realized she’d been counting the locking chevrons until there was a ringing silence after number six.

“Levi?”

“It won’t lock!” he said, hitting the panels again, a little harder this time.

Nothing happened.

“Every time,” muttered Jason, resignedly. “Every time somebody at the SGC breakes the ‘gate, it’s _us_ who get stuck off-world.”

“We don’t know it’s the Earth ‘gate,” Toby pointed out.

“With our luck?” asked Gryff, smiling.

“Jason, Levi, see if you can find us a good place to pitch camp. Toby and I are gonna fiddle with DHD.”

Toby grinned. “Make sure there aren’t any salt monsters, energy creatures or piles of precariously-balanced papier-mâché rocks.”

“Not redshirts!” Levi called back, already halfway across the clearing.

Gryff laughed, and clapped her second-in-command on the shoulder. “C’mon, Toby. There’s not much chance we’ll get captured and thrown into a naquadah mine here.”

“Gryff, don’t say that!” he said, “You’ll jinx us!”


	35. Nightmares and Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of SG-22 never face nightmares alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "dreams"

Toby woke to the feeling of someone watching him, and sure enough, there was a slender figure standing in his bedroom doorway, too short to be Jason and too curvy to be Levi.

“Gryff?” he asked, softly. “Everything okay?”

She shifted. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He propped himself up on one elbow. “Nightmare?”

“I guess,” Gryff replied. “I don’t remember my dreams, you know that. But I woke up just needing to see you.”

Toby lifted his blanket. “Come on, get in.”

She snorted a laugh, but climbed in beside him. “Thanks,” she said, softly.

“Any time, Gryff.”


	36. Keep It on the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “By all means, keep telling us about the migratory habits of the alien Gypsies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "imprisonment" & "stars" (bonus: over 500 words)

“This is weird,” said Levi.

Gryff looked across the wagon at him. “What, because we’re not doing manual labor?”

“Well… yes,” the sociologist admitted. “I mean, usually we’re so busy hauling naquadah that I don’t have any time to really sit and contemplate the fact that— _again_ — we’ve been captured and imprisoned by persons of unknown intent.”

“I think the intent of the Goa’uld and their Jaffa is pretty obvious,” she replied. “These guys, not so much. But on the upside, there’s also not so much manual labor.”

Toby snorted. “I, for one, am enjoying the change.”

“Even if it is a bit cramped in here,” added Jason.

The wagon was only just big enough to hold the four of them, made of sturdy wood, the two longest sides open to the air except for thick metal bars. It was pulled by an animal that looked a little like a horse.

“It’s not so bad,” said Gryff. They’d shifted around to sit against the bars, she and Toby on one side, Levi and Jason on the other, legs nearly stretching to the opposite side. “And when we get to the Gypsy camp, we’ll get the nice horse to open the gate for us.”

“Huh?” asked Levi.

“ _The One Hundred and One Dalmatians_ ,” said Toby and Jason together, and grinned. 

“It’s Gryff’s favorite book,” the lieutenant added.

“I’ve been busy,” Levi protested. “But do you know what this does remind me of?”

“What?” asked Jason.

“ _Dumbo_ ”

Toby frowned. “You don’t think we’re being taken to some kind of alien zoo, do you? Because that sort of thing only happens in really, really bad sci-fi movies.”

“We _live_ a really bad sci-fi movie,” said Gryff, with a laugh, then winced as the wagon hit an obstacle and jolted violently. “Hey!” she yelled. “Keep it on the road!”

“Gryff…” said Toby.

“Yes, yes, don’t antagonize our captors,” she said. “When we get back to Earth, remind me to have a few words with SG-1 on the definition of ‘uninhabited’ planets.”

“In their defense, these people don’t seem to use the stargate at all,” said Levi. “Their society seems entirely nomadic. These wagons are their homes, just like the Gypsies on Earth. Which really is fantastic, when you think about— Are you falling asleep?”

Jason, who had slid sideways to rest his head on Levi’s shoulder, waved a vague hand. “No, this is fascinating, Lee. By all means, keep telling us about the migratory habits of the alien Gypsies.”

“Oh, now you’re just making fun of me.”

Gryff closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the bars. The planet’s sun was just setting, and she could see the diamond-bright pinpricks of unfamiliar stars begin to appear above the horizon.

“Look,” said Toby. “All I’m saying is that we’re good at escaping from naquadah mines. We’ve never tried to escape from an alien Gypsy caravan.”

“True,” said Gryff. “But my mother always says that people should try new things.”

“Smart lady,” said Jason. “You got a plan, sir?”

“Working on one.

He grinned. “ _And I’ll have seen about everything, when I see an elephant fly_ …”


	37. Curled Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff’s having a bad night, but Jason can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "nightmare"

On his way back from the bathroom, Jason paused in Gryff’s bedroom doorway. She was curled up in bed, tucked into as small a space as possible, something she often did when they slept off-world.

Jason wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. It was one thing when they all piled into Gryff’s bed, like puppies in a basket, but just him…

Gryff made a weird distressed muffled sound, curling up tighter, and Jason slid into bed on the other side. 

When he woke the next morning, she was sprawled out beside him, relaxed and loose-limbed. 

Jason grinned.


	38. To the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 saved the day, but it’s still a long way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "dirty deeds" & "lighthouse" (bonus: hurt/comfort)

There was a lighthouse on P2X-715, a stone tower with a bonfire on top, and it could be seen for miles around.

Which was a very good thing, because Levi had lost his glasses in their tumble down that rocky hill, and even before that, they’d been so muddy that he couldn’t see through them anyway. The rain had lessened a bit since they’d set out, but it was still coming down steadily, as they _squished_ their way across the muddy plain.

“Jason, you still with us?” Gryff demanded, from his left.

She had one of Jason’s arms over her shoulders, and Levi had the other, keeping the Marine more-or-less upright. Toby, walking a little ahead of them, balanced a poncho-wrapped toddler on each hip.

The kids had gone missing just as the storm hit, and SG-22 had volunteered to go find them. Two and a half hours of mud later, it turned out that the siblings hadn’t gone missing so much as been kidnapped. Which they found out when they reached the low hills and the kidnapper attacked them.

Jason had gotten him, two bullets right to the chest, but not before the guy had toppled a rockslide that came thundering down on them. Levi and the kids hadn’t been hurt, but Gryff had a cut above one eye that was still bleeding sluggishly, Toby had long scratches down both arms, and they were pretty sure that Jason had a few bruised ribs, not to mention a probable head injury.

“’M’okay, sir,” Jason said, slurring even those few words— he had to have a concussion, at least— “I c’n walk.”

“Uh-huh,” said Gryff, who clearly didn’t believe him. “Lee and I are just here for moral support.”

Levi looked up again, but the lighthouse didn’t seem that much closer. “I think he’s faking, Gryff,” he said. “Just wants us to carry his sorry butt back to the ‘gate.”

“’M _not_ ,” Jason mumbled. 

Toby hung back to walk at Gryff’s other side. “I think the kids are sick,” he said, softly, so they wouldn’t hear. “Temma’s got a fever and Caros—”

The little boy sneezed, loudly, from somewhere inside Toby’s coat.

“Yeah, Jase isn’t doing so well, either,” said Gryff. “C’mon, boys, let’s pick up the pace.”

Levi’s feet were already aching and the lighthouse seemed miles away, but he tightened his grip on Jason’s wrist, pulling the Marine a little closer. “Don’t worry, Jase,” he said. “We’ll get you home.”

“I know,” said Jason. He closed his eyes and let his head roll sideways, so that his regulation buzz cut brushed Levi’s ear. 

“Still with you, Lee,” he murmured, just as Levi opened his mouth to protest his motions, and the sociologist smiled. 

“Yeah, stay that way,” he said, and kept trudging toward the distant light.


	39. Comes in Threes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three most important people in Levi’s life are his team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "bang, bang!"

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Levi heard three staff weapon blasts, heard the thumps of three human-sized somethings hitting the ground, and after that, his memories were a little fragmented.

He remembered rushing the guard who came to open his cell, the same guard who had thrown him into it, who had threatened to kill the rest of his team if Levi didn’t help them, who _had_ killed—

He remembered running, firing a weapon he hadn’t remembered picking up, not even sure of where he was going, too consumed with a sudden red-hot rage. He knew he’d been hit, too, glancing shots and sprays of chipped rocks where they’d only just missed, but nothing bad enough to stop him. He could hardly even feel them.

He remembered stumbling into the temple gate room, looking up into three familiar _impossible_ faces— and the world going suddenly black.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Levi sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding so hard it was difficult to breathe. He only dimly recognized his own bedroom, half-trapped in the nightmare of world of blood and pain and loss.

“What’s wrong?” said Gryff, skidding to a stop in his doorway. She was wearing pajama bottoms and an old USMC t-shirt, hair loose around her shoulders. Jason and Toby were right behind her, both half-awake and frantic, tumbling together into his room. “Levi?”

“You’re alive,” he breathed.

“Of course we’re—” Toby began, but broke off as Levi lunged forward to hug him tightly. “Hey, Lee, be careful! You’re still hurt.”

Gryff but her hand flat between Levi’s shoulder blades, fingers cool to the touch even through his sweat-soaked t-shirt. “It’s okay, Lee,” she said. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, shakily.

Jason pressed in on Levi’s other side, pulling up the hem of his t-shirt to check the bandages underneath. “I don’t think you pulled any of your stitches, Lee, but— What?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear anybody call me ‘Lee’ ever again,” he mumbled into Toby’s shoulder. 

“Hey, Gryff,” said Toby. “I know we said…”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But it seems to be doing more harm than good. C’mon, Lee, grab your pillow.”

“But…” Reluctantly, Levi pulled away from Toby, who let him go but kept a reassuring hand on his elbow. “What if I have another nightmare? I’ll wake you guys up.”

“You already woke us up,” said Jason. “And if we’re together, we won’t have as far to go to come and get you.”

And they would, Levi knew. It he had a dozen nightmares before morning, they’d all come back a dozen times to make sure he was all right.

He grabbed his pillow.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

“Levi!” called Gryff’s voice, like it wasn’t the first time she’d said it, and he came awake slowly in a bed that wasn’t his but was almost as familiar.

“C’mon, Lee!” Gryff continued. “You’re pretty enough, you don’t need any more beauty sleep!”

“But, sir,” said Jason, in a very loud whisper. “We’re supposed to let him rest.”

“Rest, not hibernate,” said Gryff. “Besides, Toby said he was making pancakes.”

“Oh, well, in that case.”

There were hands shaking him, and Levi opened his eyes to see Jason standing next to Gryff’s bed, holding out the Air Force Academy sweatshirt that Gryff kept stealing from Toby.

“Pancakes?” said Levi, hopefully.

Jason laughed. “How’d you sleep?”

“I— good.” Levi pulled on the sweatshirt and went looking for his glasses. “Really good. Thanks.”

“Any time,” said Jason, and passed him his glasses.


	40. Unbreakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason knows just how tough Gryff can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "fragile things" (bonus: present tense)

Jason is flipping through the channels when he finds some kind of hearing on C-SPAN, a panel of dark-suited politicians facing a smaller panel of military officers. It’s the uniforms that catch his attention, a one-star general from each of the four branches. One of the senators has just finished asking a question, and the camera cuts back to the Army general, who starts a clearly-prepared speech about combat stress and unit morale.

Maybe they’re finally getting onto that PTSD thing, Jason thinks. It’s about time— the Gulf War has been over for almost a decade, now.

A different senator— at least, Jason thinks it’s a different one, they all look gray and middle-aged— asks a different question, and this time, the Air Force general answers.

“ _It’s just not feasible_ ,” he says, as C-SPAN puts his name and rank on the screen. “ _Women are just not equipped, physically, to handle the kind of stresses that men can. No matter how much training we can give them, it is an unavoidable truth that they are more fragile, more easily incapacitated. Furthermore, they are too emotional to make the kind of rapid and coldly-calculated decisions that are often required in a battle. In a high-risk, high-stress situation, a man shouldn’t have to bear the additional worry if the next soldier over is a woman who will freeze in battle, or even that she won’t be capable of carrying him out of danger—_ ”

Jason turns off the TV, pushing the button on the remote with more force than is needed. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his anger, and looks across the room.

Gryff is sleeping in the big armchair, wrapped in blankets and propped on pillows. She’s even paler than usual, making her black eye look all that much worse. There are more bruises down the one bare arm that Jason can see, and he knows that there are many more out of sight, along with the two cracked ribs and six neat stiches above her left hip.

Igraine Gryffydd is the least fragile person that Jason has ever met, and he’s been in the Marines for over a decade.

It’s not the first time she’s been worked over like this, or worse, and it’s starting to worry Jason that they’re getting used to it. They’d just gotten back to Earth, after spending three days in one of Hecate’s naquadah mines— not their record shortest stay, but not bad— and, as usual, Gryff’s smart mouth and worse attitude, had gotten her beat up. Jason knows why she does it, makes herself a target, he understands it, even, but that doesn’t mean he likes to watch it happen. She’d gotten about half those bruises when they’d first arrived, and the rest the next day, for a crack about forming a union and an unfortunate joke about the First Prime’s mother. The black eye had come from the riot they’d used to stage their escape earlier today, though she’d thankfully avoided a concussion. She’d needed the stitches for a shallow cut she’d gotten blocking a knife strike from a Jaffa trying to stab Toby. 

Gryff hadn’t mentioned that last one, not until she’d tumbled onto the ‘gate ramp at the SGC— the last to come through the wormhole— and Janet Fraiser had demanded to know where all the blood came from. The doctor had only released Gryff from the infirmary because she knew the rest of her team would make sure she took it easy.

At a sudden sound, Jason looks up to find Gryff stirring from her mound of blankets. “Hey,” says Gryff, sleepily. “You can watch something, if you want. I’m just…” Her hand flails vaguely, then flops back into her lap. “Resting my eyes.”

“Sure,” Jason says.

“Hey,” says Levi, leaning in the living room doorway. “You’re awake. Feeling better?”

Gryff smiles. “A little.”

“Good. Dinner’s ready.”

Jason stands, and holds out a hand to Gryff. It’s ridiculously easy to pull her to her feet, especially after three days of mine-worker rations. But Jason also knows that she can bear his weight if he needs her to. She might not be able to throw him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry, but he remembers with pain-tinged clarity all the times he’s stumbled on the way through the ‘gate, only for Gryff to duck under his arm and hold him up.

“Hey,” Gryff says again, with a hand on his own. “I really am okay, Jase. I’m not made of glass.”

He smiles. “Oh, I know you’re not, sir.”


	41. Who Gather Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 spends Christmas together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “Bless Us All” (from _The Muppet Christmas Carol_ )

The tree was crooked. The garland on the stairs was a paper chain made from old magazines. The lights were still a bit tangled, and not one of the stockings was hanging straight.

It was perfect.

“Our first Christmas!” said Levi, sounding more like a little kid than a PhD doctor. 

Gryff smiled. “It’s not quite Christmas yet, Lee. Not until tomorrow.”

“Oh, the cookies!” said Jason. He ducked into the kitchen and came back with a plate and a glass to set on the mantle.

“Then we’re all set,” announced Toby. “We’d better go to bed so Santa can come.”

“Hey, Gryff?” said Levi, slowly. “Do you think we could, you know, since it’s Christmas…?”

“All sleep in my room?” she asked, smiling. “Sure.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas!” he said, heading up to his own room for his pajamas.

“And anyone who wakes me before dawn is toast,” she added.

Jason and Toby laughed. “And good will toward men,” the Marine joked.


	42. Candlelight for Levi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi comes home to a holiday surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (celebrating the holidays)

Levi let himself into the kitchen through the back door, juggling the shopping bag full of bread and milk so he could shrug out of his coat. Something smelled wonderful, probably whatever was in the oven— it was Toby’s night to cook, and he was the best of them at it— so Levi took a deep breath as he hung up his coat and went to put the milk away.

He had just closed the fridge again when he heard voices from the living room.

“It needs to go, prominently, by the window,” said Gryff.

“But not this one, not by the Christmas tree,” said Jason. “People outside are supposed to be able to see it, it says so in the book.”

There was the rustle of pages being turned. “Either that, or just inside an exterior door,” said Tony. “So, really, I say it should go in this window here, by the hallway.”

“Okay,” Gryff agreed. There was a pause. “How’s that?”

“It’s a little crooked, sir,” said Jason. This time, the pause was filled with an odd shuffling noise. “There.”

“Okay,” said Gryff, again. “So, everything’s ready, other than the— Levi!”

Everyone stopped as he came into the living room. Levi looked around, taking in the lit Christmas tree, the stockings on the mantle, the garland on the staircase— and the simple menorah on the windowsill.

“You’re home early, Lee,” said Jason. He and Toby were both wearing _yarmulkes_ and Gryff had a lace scarf pinned into her hair. “This was supposed to be a surprise.”

“What is all this?” Levi asked, a little stunned.

“We figured you would recognize all the stuff you need for Chanukah,” said Toby, then he frowned. “Unless we did something wrong? Because all we had for reference was that old set of _Encyclopedia Britanica_.”

“No, no, it looks perfect, but… why?”

“Because you’re Jewish, Levi,” said Gryff. “You were so into it, helping us get ready for Christmas that we almost forgot. And we’re really sorry.”

“But I love Christmas,” Levi protested. “The carols, the decorations, peace on Earth, all that good stuff… You guys even got me a stocking with my name on it! And I’m… I’m really not that devout, anymore.”

“Neither are we,” said Jason. “But if you’re going to celebrate Christmas with us, it’s only fair that we celebrate Chanukah with you.”

“Okay,” said Levi. “L’chaim.”

“See, that’s the spirit,” said Gryff. She reached onto the mantle, and handed him a matchbox. “You’ll need these, Lee. It’s almost sunset.”

Levi held still while she pinned the _yarmulke_ to his hair, then lit a match and touched it to the first candle.

“ _Hanneirot hallalu anachnu_ …”


	43. Field Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 need a little help to get back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "signal boost" & "pumpkin pie"

“Careful!” snapped Toby, as Gryff’s foot slipped on his shoulder.

There was a sudden shower of sparks from somewhere above him, and he ducked his head to avoid them.

“You okay, sir?” asked Jason, tightening his grip on Gryff’s other ankle, more secure on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she said. “But I… I don’t know if I’ve connected these right, Toby. Why couldn’t you do this?”

“Because you and I could never hold him up there, sir,” said Jason.

“Hey,” Toby protested, laughing, just as Levi said, “Gryff, maybe you shouldn’t touch—”

The second shower of sparks was even worse than the first. Gryff let out a startled yelp and toppled sideways, but Jason and Toby were quicker, catching her cheerleader-style before she could hit the ground.

“Nice going, boys,” she said, appreciatively.

“Did you get everything connected?” Toby asked.

As if on cue, Gryff’s radio crackled. “ _SG-22, come in_ ,” said Jack O’Neill’s voice. “ _What is your location?_ ”

“This is Captain Gryffydd,” she replied. “We’re at the top of the relay station. There was a rainstorm that washed out the bridge, and we had to hot-wire this thing just to get a radio signal.”

“ _Sounds like fun_ ,” said Jack. “ _We’ll call back to Earth and get them to send a temporary bridge, and have you home in time for pumpkin pie in the mess._ ”

“Oh, is it pumpkin pie today?” asked Levi. “That’s my favorite.”

Over the radio, they could hear SG-1 laughing. “ _I’ll have them save you a piece, Flannigan_ ,” Jack promised.


	44. Drifting Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any complaints about being a second-string team now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "full moon" & "swimming" (bonus: science-fiction)

“So,” said Gryff. “Any complaints about being a second-string team now?”

It was a clear night on P3X-9913, with a big bright moon hanging above them. Each member of SG-22— actually, each inhabitant of the village, except for the children small enough to share with their parents— was floating on the glass-still lake, on a raft made of what looked like bamboo but felt more like the stuff they made Nerf balls out of. Smaller rafts, carrying lit lanterns, floated among them, giving the impression that the endless stars above, reflected in the lake, were all around them.

“Not a single one, sir,” said Jason, as his raft bumped gently into Gryff’s. “It really is too bad that SG-3 had to go help out with that… you know… Tok’Ra thing.”

Somewhere to her left, Toby laughed. “Yes, too bad.”

“You know,” said Levi, from a little further off. “This is nice. Can you put in a good word with the general, Gryff? Get us assigned to these cultural celebrations more often?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, smiling.

Somewhere across the lake, someone began singing, a slow lilting song that carried through the still night. A few more people joined in, dropping in and out as the melody continued.

Gryff closed her eyes, and they drifted together until the sun came up.


	45. Home Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff is the designated driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "driving in a blizzard" (bonus: exactly 100 words)

“Hey, Gryff,” said a sleep-soft voice. “We there yet?”

She brought her Jeep to a stop at the red light and glanced in the rearview mirror. Jason blinked at her from the backseat, only half awake, with Levi snoring softly against his shoulder.

“Not long,” she said, just as quietly. “How’s he doing?”

“Better,” Jason replied. “I think his meds kicked in.”

“Light’s green, Gryff,” mumbled Toby, from the front seat beside her.

Gryff hit the gas again and started off through the blizzard of snow, driving more carefully than she ever had before, to get her passengers home safe.


	46. Tumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gryff, you’re okay! You’re safe, it’s us!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "Halo" (Beyoncé)

“Gryff!” said a voice, a man’s voice. “Gryff, you’re okay! You’re safe, it’s us!”

She took in a long, ragged breath, blinking to clear her vision. Three human-shaped blobs swam into focus, all in familiar SGC green. “Guys?” she croaked.

Her head pounded, and the world tilted, but there was suddenly a hand under her elbow. “I’ve got you,” said Toby’s voice in her ear— he was the one who’d spoken before. “Just hang in there.”

Gryff nodded and immediately regretted it, closing her eyes against the pain. 

“Sir?” said Jason. The hands shifted, and she felt his go around her waist, holding up her weight. “Sir, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes again, blinking at him, then Toby and Levi, still hovering just behind. “Yeah,” she said, managing a bloody-lipped smile. “I think I’ll be okay.”


	47. Night of Neverending Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 celebrate the longest night of an off-world year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "neverending winter"

“Okay, guys,” said Gryff, pulling on her thermal gloves and readjusting the scarf around her neck. “SG-1 says the village is only ten minutes from the ‘gate, but it’s not going to be fun getting there.”

“What do you mean, Gryff?” asked Toby. Like the rest of them, he was dressed in a fur-lined parka, scarf, gloves, hat, and whatever cold-weather gear the SGC quartermaster could come up with. “This’ll be like an Alpine vacation.”

“If the Alps were on _Pluto_ ”, Jason grumbled, as the ‘gate finished dialing and the wormhole _kawooshed_ to life.

“But they live _in_ the mountain,” said Levi. “Like the Pueblo Indians. But it’s snowy, so they’re also like Eskimos, and—”

“ _SG-22, you have a go_ ,” said General Hammond, from the Control Room. “ _And godspeed_.”

Gryff waved acknowledgment to him, then led her team through the ‘gate— into a howling blizzard.

“This way,” said Gryff. “Stick together.”

SG-22 slogged their way through foot-high snow drifts. Occasionally, the wind would shift, and they were able to see the peaks of soaring mountains through the driving snow. Then, suddenly, there were people in front of them, all dressed in dark furs.

“Greetings,” said one of them, a man with steel-gray hair. “By what names are you called?”

“I’m Captain Gryffydd,” said Gryff. “These are Lieutenant Tobias, Gunny Vicks and Dr. Flannigan. We’re SG-22, from Earth.”

“Earth,” the man repeated. “You were sent by SG-1, to join our ceremony?”

“We were,” Gryff agreed. “SG-1 is unable to come, so we hope you will allow us to take their place.”

“You are most welcome,” he said “I am Teodor. These are Svanhild, Elis and Dagrun. Come this way, and let us go where it is warm.”

SG-22 followed the group through the snow. They were almost a the foot of the mountain when they could see it— the village, cut right into the stones, snow-covered roves and chimneys emerging in odd places.

“It’s beautiful,” said Gryff.

“Yes, it is,” said Svanhild. She was about Gryff’s age, with two honey-blonde braids that spilled from under her furry hood. “There is nowhere more beautiful.”

“Nowhere I’ve seen,” agreed Levi.

They walked through what looked like a natural cave entrance, but only a few yards in, it was clearly hand-hewn, leading deeper into the mountain. It got steadily warmer as they walked, and soon everyone was loosening their clothes.

“It is quite warm in the caves,” said Teodor. “A place was prepared when we invited SG-1 to join us, but as you are also four, there will plenty of room for you, as well.”

“Sounds great,” said Gryff. “Thank you.”

Teodor nodded. “You have arrived just in time. The Night of Neverending Winter will begin shortly.”

“Neverending?” Jason repeated.

Dagrum laughed, silver braids swinging. “It is only a name,” she said. “Our planet is cold for only eight of our eleven months.”

“See, that’s not so bad,” said Toby. “What kind of ceremony do you hold?”

“This is the longest night of the year,” said Elis. He had pulled off his coat, to reveal dark hair pulled back in a single braid. “On this night, families gather together in our Great Chamber— a large cavern in the heart of the mountain— to sing songs and warm their hearts against the darkness.”

“Our world has some similar traditions,” said Levi. “Certain cultures have midwinter customs about family, and staving off the darkness.”

“Then you understand it well,” said Teodor. “Your place is this way.”

The cavern was arched, like a gothic cathedral, with carved alcoves all along the outer walls. In each one, furs had been spread for a family to sit on, as they tended a small fire just outside the alcove. A large pile of firewood lined the cavern wall opposite the entrance. SG-22 was pointed to an empty alcove, already lined with furs, and an unlit fire.

“We take it in turns to add wood to our family’s fire,” said Svanhild. “The Elders begin a song, and all join in, as they are moved. In the morning, when the sun rises again, the fires are put out, one by one, and the entire village goes to greet the sun.”

“Be well, during the night,” added Teodor, and their escort left to join their own families.

Gryff sank onto the pile of furs, and grinned up at her team. “So, is this better than a naquadah mine?”

Toby laughed, and dropped to sit beside her. “Absolutely.”


	48. Too Early, Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What time is it? After twenty-eight-hour days on PX-9954, I’ve kind of lost track.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "coffee and cookies"

“What time is it?” Gryff asked, as Janet finished up their post-mission exams. “After twenty-eight-hour days on PX-9954, I’ve kind of lost track.”

“Three in the afternoon,” the doctor said.

“Too late for lunch, but too early for dinner,” said Jason, sadly.

Toby laughed. “We could raid the kitchens,” he suggested. “On doctor’s orders?”

“You’re on your own,” Janet said, smiling after them as they left.

“I can’t believe you, Gryff,” said Levi, a few minutes later, juggling the large coffee thermos she had talked the cooks out of.

“And cookies!” Jason added, grinning.

Gryff laughed. “Let’s ruin our dinners.”


	49. The Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why does SG-22 get sent to all those off-world rituals?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "a few good men"

“Any questions?” asked Hammond, from the head of the briefing table.

“Um, actually…” said Gryff. She looked around at her team, then said, “I don’t mean to complain, sir, but this is the sixth off-world cultural ritual we’ve been assigned from another team. Is that fair?”

The general smiled. “Honestly, and unofficially, captain? Your team is the best at this sort of thing.”

“Really?” asked Toby.

“You have a diversity that reflects well on the SGC,” he explained. “And unlike SG-1, you mostly avoid trouble, even if you have a problem with naquadah mines.”

Gryff laughed. “We do try, sir.”


	50. Hanging On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi is badly hurt, and Gryff doesn’t know if help will reach them in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "miscommunication" & "pride" (bonus: angst)

The silvery emergency blanket crinkled in Gryff’s fingers as she pulled it more tightly around them. Levi whimpered slightly, and she winced.

“Sorry, Lee,” she said, even though she knew he was still unconscious. He’d been out for over an hour, now, and Gryff was starting to worry. “Just hang in there. The boys will be back soon, with help.”

It had been snowing when they arrived on P2X-9914, big flakes that stuck to everything. SG-11 had done the first recon there and made contact with a small, wary local population. At first, everything seemed to be going well— Gryff had made the ritual greeting, repeating exactly what SG-11’s leader had shown her, and the team had been welcomed by the village chief. As the snow continued to fall, they’d been taken on a tour of the place, pointed toward local landmarks like the bakery, the Hall of Learning, and the chief’s mother’s house.

And then, something had gone horribly wrong. Levi had asked a seemingly-uninteresting question, something about an odd architectural feature on one of the houses, and the chief’s guards had raised their weapons. The sociologist had stuttered an apology, but before any of his teammates could move, a sword had flashed, and Levi had collapsed, the snow turning red beneath him.

They had barely escaped, Levi draped over Jason’s shoulder, Gryff and Toby firing blindly behind them until they hit the edge of the forest.   
“He’s bad, sir,” said Jason, when they finally took shelter under a rocky outcropping. 

Toby peeled back the field dressing they’d managed to apply before they’d had to run for it, and winced. “Really bad,” he said. “Gryff, I don’t think we should move him any more.”

“We’re, what, half a mile from the ‘gate?” she asked. “And that’s too far?”

He nodded. “The bleeding has slowed, but I have no way of knowing what kind of internal damage there was. And with this snow, if one of us slipped while carrying him… I don’t think we should risk it.”

Gryff had agreed. Carefully, the rest of SG-22 tucked Levi, snug in his sleeping bag, under the rock formation, then piled branches over the emergency blanket they’d used to cover the opening. Gryff crawled in beside him, while Toby and Jason slogged through the snow back to the ‘gate.

But it was starting to get dark. Gryff could see the snow piling up against the emergency blanket and branches around their outcropping, and tried to scoot a little closer to Levi. He hadn’t regained consciousness, and he still felt cold. Gryff wished she had more heat to give him, but she had always run a bit cold. 

The others were taking too long— they shouldn’t have met any angry natives, since they’d been running toward the ‘gate, away from the village— and they should have been back by now, even leading a med-team and a unit of Marines.

Levi made a strained sort of noise, still not awake, and flailed under the blanket. Gryff caught his hand, pressing her nose against his throat. “It’s okay, Lee,” she murmured. “I’m here, you’re safe, the others will be back any minute…”

He quieted, a bit, and she moved her hand toward his injured side. It didn’t feel warm to the touch, which Gryff hoped meant there was no infection, and she let her arm rest there, over Levi’s stomach.

“They’re bringing the doc back with them, just hang in there,” she said. “You’re going to be okay, Lee, I know you are. Because you’re tougher than you look, and you’re not going to give up. Just… just stay with me.”

Outside the wind howled louder, and a gust suddenly tugged at their emergency blanket-cover. Gryff reached over her head to roll one of the large, loose rocks into the gap. She yanked her fingers back immediately, wincing at their chill.

“It’s getting colder, Levi,” she said. “And I’m not… I don’t know if I can keep you warm enough, and I’m sorry. We knew it was snowing, we should have brought more cold-weather gear. Should have asked SG-11 more about the locals. Should have… sh-should have d-done a bunch of st-stuff.”

Gryff could feel her teeth chattering, but kept talking, “I d-don’t know if you c-can hear me, Lee, but there are th-things I should s-say. I’m p-proud of you, _so_ proud. You’re n-not military like the r-rest of us, but you n-never let it st-stop you. You’re b-braver than w-we are. And i-if we m-make it th-through th-this, I sw-swear I’m g-gonna t-tell you _everything_.”

She was shivering too hard to speak, too hard to _think_. Gryff could feel her thought process slowing, could feel the cold in her extremities sliding past ‘painful’ right to ‘numb’. She knew she shouldn’t sleep, but it was so cold, so cold…

Gryff pressed her nose against Levi’s shoulder, and closed her eyes. Just before she passed out, she was sure she heard the crunch of standard-issue boots on snow, but she was unconscious before she could look.

THE END


	51. Three Days Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff wakes up in the infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (TV Tropes - [Asleep for Days](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AsleepForDays))

The first thing Gryff heard, when she swam back toward consciousness in the SGC infirmary, was Levi’s voice saying, “…and I swear to God, Gryff, if you do this to me one more time, I’m going to kill you!”

“Love you, too, Lee,” she said— but it came out more like a croak.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Levi jump. “Gryff! Oh, my god, Gryff, you’re awake!”

“Yeah?” she said, then paused and took stock of herself. Her head felt a little fuzzy and she hurt… pretty much everywhere. She was also hooked up to a few things, which were starting to be a little uncomfortable. “Yeah.”

Levi grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “Are you okay? Do you remember your name? Can you feel your toes? Do you—”

“Can I get some water?” she interrupted, smiling.

“Oh! Sure.” Levi produced a cup and held the straw to her lips.

Gryff drank slowly, knowing that taking too much at once would make her feel worse. “What happened?” she asked.

“What _happened_?” Levi repeated. “Gryff, you were stabbed! You collapsed on the ‘gate ramp the second the wormhole closed behind us, and you’ve been asleep for three days!”

“Oh.”

“Wow, way to break it gently, Lee,” said Jason, coming around the dividing curtain to stand at the foot of her bed. 

“Hey, she already knew she’d gotten stabbed,” he protested. Then, blanched. “You _did_ know you’d gotten stabbed, right?”

“Kinda?” said Gryff.

Jason rested a hand on her blanketed ankle. “But you’re okay, sir? You feel okay?”

She nodded. “Lee said I was out for three days. What about you guys, are you…?”

“We’re fine,” said Toby. “Bumps and bruises, but we’re okay. Also, I talked to your mother when she called, and I told her that you were transcribing top secret documents and would call her back when you were cleared. I may have mentioned that you were working directly for a ‘very important military officer’ who I wasn’t at liberty to name…”

Gryff grinned, and managed a vague thumbs-up. “Good thinking, Toby.”

“SG-22,” said Janet Fraiser, coming around the curtain with her arms folded, disapproving. “What did I tell you about bothering my patients?”

All three boys looked sheepish. “To come get you immediately when she woke up?” said Levi.

“And what did you do?”

“You know ‘immediate’ is such a vague word…” said Toby.

Janet rolled her eyes, and moved to check Gryff’s vitals. “It looks like you’re healing nicely, Gryff,” she said. “I’m going to keep you overnight for observation— don’t get excited, it’s already ten o’clock— and you can go home tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

Gryff smiled. “Thanks, Janet.”


	52. Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can’t return to Earth until the storm lets up, and Gryff is running a fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "feverish" & "she stared into darkness" (bonus: 3rd person)

Toby put the back of his hand to his commanding officer’s forehead, and frowned. “Her fever’s getting worse.”

He kept his other hand on Gryff’s shoulder, as she let out a low moan and tried to roll away from him. Levi crowded in on her other side, catching Gryff’s hand when she pulled it out from her sleeping bag.

“Sir?” asked Jason, ducking back into the tent. It was a little crowded with all four of them in there, but nobody complained. “How is she?”

“Worse,” said Toby.

Gryff moaned again and struggled against the hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t seem to be looking at any of them, or even at the ceiling of the tent. “No,” she mumbled, under her breath. “No! Let me go! I have to save them!”

“We’re here,” said Jason, sliding in beside Levi to lean over her. “Sir, we’re here, we’re okay.”

Toby squeezed her shoulder, gently. “You did it, Gryff,” he said, a little impulsively. “You got here just in time. We’re all safe.”

“Yeah, Gryff,” added Levi. He pulled off his boots and wriggled into the sleeping bag with her, just like she’d done for him, more than once. “Look, we’re all safe.”

Gryff blinked, furiously, then brought one hand up to touch his shoulder, finally focusing on the other two faces above her. “Guys?” she asked. “Is it still raining out?”

Toby shared a look with Jason, and huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, Gryff. We’ll head back to the ‘gate as soon as the river level goes down.”

“Okay,” she muttered, closing her eyes again. “Wake me up when that happens.”

“Her fever’s down,” Toby breathed, a moment later.

His teammates smiled, and settled in to wait out the storm.


	53. The Dissembling Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sir, have you considered hair dye?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (random line from random book - “Ginger hair features in the work of some of the greatest writers in the history of the English language, such as Chaucer and Shakespeare.” ( _The Ginger Survival Guide_ , by Tim Collins) )

“Look, sir,” said Jason, as they set up their bedrolls in the small cabin they’d been lent for the night. “No offence, but can we get the other teams to add ‘do you have an irrational attitude toward redheaded people’ to the standard off-world meet-and-greets? Because this is getting really old.”

“You think so?” Gryff replied. “At least on this planet, they just want me to bless their fields of not-quite-green beans in the morning.”

“We got lucky,” said Toby. He moved her sleeping bag over a few inches to make room for his own. “Every time any team goes off-world is an unknown, though. There’s no way of knowing if anything we do, or are, will insult the people who live there.”

“And redheads are a very small percentage of the human population,” added Levi. “Only around one percent. It’s no surprise that some of the cultures are, at the very least, surprised to see someone with hair that color.”

“I just wish we got a little more ‘curious’ and a little less ‘burn the witch’,” said Jason. “Sir, have you considered hair dye?”

“I happen to like my hair,” she grumbled. “Why did you think I kept it as long as I do, when I’ve got to keep it all pinned up like this?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it,” said Toby. “Though it is useful that you always have hair pins.”

“I do try,” Gryff agreed. “And don’t forget that I’m a librarian. I’ve always loved books with redheads in them.”

“That’s true,” said Levi. “ _Ginger hair features in the work of some of the greatest writers in the history of the English language, such as Chaucer and Shakespeare._ Except for the ones that believe the superstition that Judas had red hair and that redheads are untrustworthy.”

“Right,” deadpanned Gryff. “Except for that. Besides, I’d look terrible as a blonde.”

“Ooh,” Jason agreed, wincing, and he laughed as she threw her balled-up jacket at him.


	54. Women's Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When SG-22 gets captured, Gryff is sent to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (TV Tropes - [Stay in the Kitchen](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/StayInTheKitchen))

Gryff woke with a pounding headache, and a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Easy now, lass,” said a woman’s voice. “You’ve taken quite a knock.”

Groaning, Gryff sat up anyway, putting a hand to her face and feeling the puffiness around her left eye. “Bet I’ve got a pretty good shiner, huh?”

The woman frowned at her. She was maybe ten years older than Gryff, with curly graying hair and a dirty homespun dress. “Shiner?”

“Black eye,” Gryff explained. She swung her legs over the side of the cot, experimentally, and when the world stayed upright, she got to her feet. “I’m Gryff. And you are…?”

“I am called Hilde,” said the woman. “Please, you have been injured…”

“I’ll be fine,” Gryff insisted. “Where am I? Where are my men?”

“You are in the castle of King Haakon. Your men… do you mean the enemy soldiers, in the green clothing, like yours?”

“That’s them. Where are they?”

“In the dungeons,” said Hilde.

“Then why am I not with them?” Gryff asked.

The other woman laughed. “You are not a soldier!” she said, as though the mere thought were ridiculous. 

“Right, what was I thinking?”

Hilde gave her a strange look. “You should rest. You are badly injured, and you need to heal.”

“I’ve had much worse,” said Gryff. “How about you show me around, instead?”

‘Around’ turned out to be the bare stone living quarters where Gryff had woken up, an herb garden with high stone walls, and a large kitchen. “There is also the banquet hall,” Hilde added, “where we serve at meals. Anywhere else is forbidden to us.”

“That’s just great,” said Gryff. She tugged at the collar of the homespun dress they’d found for her— it didn’t exactly go with her combat boots, but she’d refused to give those up— and it kind of itched. “I should warn you ladies, I’m a terrible cook.”

“What?” said the dozen-or-so other kitchen maids, almost in unison.

Gryff was sent to scrub dishes, and she immediately abused the position to subtly interrogate the rest of the women . By the time the breakfast dishes were clean and they were ready to start preparing the feast, she had learned that the castle had about thirty guards, that the outer defenses meant that all of them would be present at the feast that night, and that the rest of her teammates would have their fates decided as the night’s entertainment.

“Okay, look,” Gryff said, taking a huge copper pot away from a girl who was barely more than a teenager and struggling under its weight. “None of you want to work here, do you?”

There was a moment of silence, then Hilde said, “No, we don’t.” She planted her fists on her hips and glared around the kitchen. “Haakon’s father, we served with honor. But he has made us prisoners, taken our husbands and sons for his army. We would leave if we could.”

“Okay,” Gryff said again. “Now, what kind of herbs are growing in that garden of yours…?”

Gryff carried the largest dish out into the banquet hall and set it on the long table. The man at its head was heavier-set than she would have expected, wearing furs and a golden crown.

“Ah, the foreign wench,” he said, catching her arm. Gryff watched the other women set their dishes on the table, and the men begin eating. “See, your protectors cannot protect you now.”

Toby, Jason and Levi were held to the far wall of the chamber, with old-fashioned iron manacles. They all looked a little worse for the wear, Jason especially, but they were all standing under their own power, and that was a good start.

“Your Majesty,” said Gryff, with a slow smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. They’re not my protectors, I’m their commanding officer.”

“Ha!” he laughed. “A female commander.”

“Yeah, crazy, right?” Gryff deadpanned. “You don’t have a real high opinion of us females, do you?”

Haakon snorted. “You are excellent cooks,” he said, around a large mouthful.

Gryff caught Toby’s eye— she winked, and he nodded.

“Yes, they are,” Gryff agreed, and turned back to the king. “But do you know what those ladies have, back there in the kitchen? Knives, and poisons.”

Haakon was instantly on his feet. “Poison—” he spat, just as the first of his men stumbled from the table to lose the contents of his stomach on the floor. Soon, all of them were heaving, until they began collapsing, lying together in miserable-looking bunches on the floor.

Gryff pulled a kitchen knife from the waistband of her dress and pointed at the king. “Your sword, sir,” she demanded, with her most polite smile. “And the keys to free my men.”

Scowling, Haakon handed them both over, and Gryff passed the keys to Hilde, who released the rest of her team.

“Wench,” growled the king, scowl deepening as Gryff kept smiling. “You shall regret the day that you—” He broke off, suddenly turning green, and raced from the room.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” said Hilde, as Toby and Jason made to go after him. “He got twice as much of the sickening herbs as his men.”

Gryff laughed. “Smart.” She glanced around at the other former-kitchen workers, all now armed with knives, and swords taken from the stricken guards. “I think we’ve got this, guys. Jase, Levi, head back to the ‘gate, see if the general can’t send us a couple more teams to clean up this mess.”

Jason grinned and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”


	55. Perchance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff is woken from what was probably a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "forgotten dreams"

Gryff woke with a start, heart pounding, to find Toby leaning over her, looking worried and holding down her shoulders.

“Um, hi?” she said, a little breathless.

“Oh, my god, are you okay?” asked Levi, leaning over on her left. 

“Yeah, sir,” added Jason, from her right. “You were flailing pretty good— almost popped Levi right in the eye!”

“Was I? Sorry, Lee.”

Toby let her go, settling beside her.. “That seemed like one hell of a nightmare, Gryff. You want to talk about it?”

She frowned. “I… I don’t remember it.”

He snorted a laugh. “Okay, then. Midnight snack?”


	56. Escape Attempts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG teams don’t always work so well together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "for our lives" (science fiction, 1k+ words)

Jason woke to the low buzz of the kind of headache that meant he’d been knocked out by a ‘zat gun. He suppressed a groan as he heard other people moving around nearby, and Gryff’s voice said, “SG-22, report.”

“Ow,” said Toby, from somewhere to Jason’s left. “I think they just recharged their stunners.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason agreed. He pushed himself, carefully, into a sitting position. “Levi, you okay?”

The sociologist didn’t move. “If I refuse to believe we’re in _another_ naquadah mine, does that mean it’s not true?”

“No,” said Gryff, bluntly. “SG-19, what’s your status?”

“SG-19, all accounted for,” said Lieutenant Forest. His team— Master Sergeant Valdez, Staff Sergeant Duquesne and Lance Corporal O’Roarke— were all Marines, assigned to accompany SG-22 to P4X-1127 to participate in the local Festival of Strength. Only, they hadn’t made it a mile from the ‘gate before they’d been ambushed and captured by enemy Jaffa.

Speaking of which…

Jason heard the _clank_ of metal armor and hauled himself to his feet, just as three Jaffa guards appeared. As usual, Gryff had positioned herself closest to the entrance of the small cavern where they’d been dumped, and she offered the guards her fakest smile.

“I was beginning to think we’d never get any service,” she said, lightly. “And there are eight of us, so we’ll need two rooms, at least, although perhaps three would be—”

The lead Jaffa— not a First Prime, his forehead symbol was black— struck out with the butt of his staff weapon, hitting Gryff in the ribs. She let out an involuntary _huff_ of pain, but stayed upright.

“Silence, human,” the Jaffa snapped. “You are now the slaves of the Great Lord Fons.”

“The Fonz?” repeated Jason. “From _Happy Days_?”

“Maybe he’ll teach us how to do that thing with the juke box,” Gryff suggested, which earned her another hit, as she was the only one in striking distance.

“You will work for the glory of Lord Fons,” said the Jaffa. “Or you will die.”

“Is there some sort of System Lord-approved ‘welcome to my naquadah mine’ speech?” asked Gryff. “Because that is the exact same—”

The third hit made her double over, Toby’s hand under her elbow. Jason made sure he was next to Levi, as they followed the Jaffa, with SG-19 bringing up the rear. This mine looked just like the dozens (was it really ‘dozens’, plural?) of other mines that his team had been thrown into in the last few years. The littlest things could sometimes make their escape much easier, though, and Jason kept his eyes open.

They were led to a long tunnel, low enough that Jason could feel bits of protruding ceiling brush his regulation haircut, and one of the Jaffa gave Gryff a shove toward a rack of tools.

“Work, or die,” he growled, and all of the guards left, nodding to the two they had passed at the tunnel entrance.

Gryff grabbed a medieval-looking pickaxe and held it out to Forest. “You heard the man, lieutenant.”

He scowled. “Permission to speak freely?”

She took another pickaxe for herself. “While we work. Levi, hand out the rest of the tools.”

The sociologist shot her a grateful look— even after months of experience at mining naquadah, he still wasn’t accustomed to that kind of labor, and it would give him a few extra minutes of rest before he had to start really working.

“Captain,” said Forest. “With respect, my team could have handled those guards, even without weapons.”

“Probably so,” Gryff agreed. “But then what? We don’t know how deep this mine is, how many prisoners, how many Jaffa, how Lord Fonzerelli treats troublemakers, if we can access the stargate— if we’re even on the same planet anymore.”

Forest paused, then nodded. “I see your point.”

“Exactly. So, work just hard enough not to be noticed and keep a look out. We compare intel at chow time.”

“No more talking, humans!” called one of the guards, and the other primed his staff weapon.

The two team leaders fell silent and got back to work.

Jason had been in at least two dozen alien mines, but there were only so many ways you could dig out super-dense rock with hand tools, so they tended to have something of an overall standard procedure. This one, at least, had tracks for the mine carts, which was a technological advancement that not many forced-labor mines could boast. Even with the carts, it was still grueling work. The mine was hot and humid, which made the dirt they chipped away from the naquadah turn into mud that clung to their skin, and Jason sagged in relieve when he heard the low _gong_ that announced the end of the work day.

“You okay?” he asked Levi, as the guards led them out of the single mine entrance, and the other man nodded tiredly.

This mine turned out to be shallow— only a slight incline brought them out onto the surface, which was even hotter and more humid than it had been underground. It opened into a clearing in the surrounding jungle, where a large open-sided tent was set up, a cooking fire at one end and uneven rows of ground covers at the other. Over the treetops, Jason could make out the curve of the stargate a hundred yards away.

There were about a dozen guards, all armed Jaffa warriors, and about three dozen prisoners, not counting the two Earth teams.

Jason grabbed a wooden bowl from the box by the cook pot and joined the chow line, looking over his team. They were all tired and grimy— even Gryff, who wore sweaters in the middle of July, had broken a sweat— but SG-19 still looked tense.

“We won’t go tonight,” said Gryff, when they had each contributed their reports. Toby had focused on the mine’s layout, Levi had talked with some of the other miners, and Jason had watched the movements of the guards, while Gryff made herself enough of nuisance that nobody noticed them doing it. SG-19 added a few details they’d spotted, like the sturdier ten the guards were using for headquarters and the winding path off into the jungle.

Valdez, SG-19’s second-in-command, frowned. “If we find an opportunity to escape, we should take it,” he said. “We might not get a second chance.”

“It’s not that easy,” Toby said.

Gryff nodded. “We haven’t been gone long enough for our iris codes to be locked out, but it’ll be easier if we can get some of our gear back.”

“And if we get some sleep,” said Toby, collecting the empty bowls to return them, while the others arranged the ground covers.

“You’re not setting a watch?” asked Forest, surprised, then belatedly added, “Ma’am?”

“A watch isn’t necessary, lieutenant,” said Gryff. “They want to work us to death, not just kill us.”

Around them, the torches were being extinguished, and flaps brought down on the sides of the tent.

“Good night, gentlemen,” said Gryff, stretching out on the ground cover, the way the other miners were doing.

The rest of her team followed, but SG-19 took a few tense minutes to settle in. Jason was too tired to notice— he curled up between Gryff and Levi and was almost instantly asleep.

He woke, while it was still dark, to the sound of weapons fire.

Gryff was already on her feet, reaching for a weapon she didn’t have, and Jason scrambled after her, Toby and Levi not far behind. Jason had only just realized that they four members of SG-19 were missing, when they weren’t— Jaffa guards were dragging them back into the clearing, Valdez and O’Roarke unconscious, Duquesne limping badly and Forest sporting at least a black eye.

“Gryff, _don’t_ —“ Toby began, but she was already striding out of the tent and putting herself in the guards’ path.

“Unhand my men,” she snapped, in her best parade-ground bark. She didn’t use it often, but it was impressive. Usually.

The Jaffa dropped Valdez, O’Roarke and Duquesne, who collapsed onto the ground, but the one holding Forest’s arms shook him roughly. “This one says he’s their leader.”

“He answers to me,” said Gryff. 

The guard smiled, cruelly. “Then this pathetic attempt to escape is your responsibility.”

“Yes.”

Gryff took a deep breath, but made no attempt to dodge the backhanded blow that struck her in the side of the head. She fell, hands and knees hitting the dirt, and the guard used his staff weapon to knock her flat, adding two more solid hits before she collapsed, wheezing.

“Know your place, human,” he spat. “Transgress again and you will look upon these blows with fondness.”

The guards left, and Jason crouched at Gryff’s side. “Sir?”

“Oh, that’ll bruise,” she breathed. “SG-19?”

“Still alive,” said Toby. He was their unit’s de-facto medic, and he had already started checking them over. “Nobody’s broken any bones.”

“We should get them back to the tent,” said Gryff, and he nodded. “Lieutenant Forest?”

He moved stiffly, but helped lift one of his unconscious teammates. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You are aware that ‘tonight’ is generally the period of darkness following the daylights hours in which that word in said?” she asked, her voice low. “I seem to recall saying that we wouldn’t be leaving tonight.”

He hesitated, then took a deep breath, wincing. “Yes, ma’am, you did. But the guards all retired to their headquarters tent, and there was a chance to make an escape.”

“I see,” she said. “Just your team?”

“With respect, ma’am,” said Forest. “There was an opportunity, and we took it.”

“And you failed,” said Gryff, bluntly. “And now your team is injured.”

“It was a necessary risk. I didn’t think—” He stopped, jaw clenched.

“Oh, no,” said Gryff. “Let’s hear it, lieutenant. Off the record, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“All right,” he agreed. They laid Valdez and O’Roarke on the ground cover they had claimed, and Toby stayed with them. “Ma’am, I have nothing but respect for female officers. You take the same risks as anyone else, coming out here. And I’ve found that having women along can be invaluable when dealing with indigenous populations. But, ma’am, this now a purely military mission. I’m sorry to say it, but I feel you might not be entirely objective about the risks that will be necessary.”

“Objective,” Gryff repeated calmly, and Jason winced— Forest would have no idea, but that was her most dangerous tone of voice. “Thank you for your honesty, lieutenant. Now, try to get some more sleep before dawn.”

Forest scowled, then sighed, and laid down beside his team without another word.

They had barely fallen asleep when the gong roused them again, and the prisoners were marched back into the mine. Valdez and O’Roarke seemed fine, once they woke up, and all of them worked steadily, sneaking breaks when they could, adding a new layer of grime to the one they hadn’t had a chance to wash off yet.

“You’ve got a little something, right here,” joked Levi, rubbing a thumb along his own nose as he passed Jason a cup of brackish water.

“Funny,” he drawled, knowing there probably wasn’t a single clean spot on his face, then he frowned. “Hey, what’re SG-19—”

There was a sudden commotion from the far side of the tunnel. Jason caught a blur of SGC-green as a pile of equipment suddenly toppled. A mine cart went down next, sending chunks of raw naquadah skidding across the ground, and a moment later, a staff weapon went off, striking the ceiling and adding a cloud of dust to the melee.

The rest of the miners scrambled away from the scuffle, but SG-22 pushed forward. O’Roarke was unconscious again, along with two of the guards, but the rest of his team were on their knees, staff weapons aimed at their backs.

“What’s going on?” Gryff demanded.

“Your men did not learn their place, human,” said the head Jaffa guard. “Perhaps they will learn from the example I make of you.”

“Sir..!” Jason protested, but she raised a fist, sharply, in the signal for him to stop.

The Jaffa sneered. “Lord Fons will deal with you himself,” he said. “Bring her.”

Their watches had been taken along with their other gear, so Jason had no way of knowing how long Gryff had been gone. It _felt_ like forever, and all three members of his team kept glancing at the cavern entrance, even as they went back to mining naquadah.

Finally, the guards returned, dragging Gryff between them. They tossed her, unceremoniously, into the middle of the mine tunnel, and left again. Jason managed to catch her, relieved to feel Gryff’s pulse under his fingers, and eased them both to the ground. Toby knelt beside them, checking their CO for injuries. 

“Nothing seems broken,” he said, which was about as much as they could hope for— Gryff’s nose was still bleeding, and so was her lip. Ugly purple bruises were forming along her bare arms, and probably a few places her clothing hid, but her eyes were focused, and she gripped Jason’s shoulder to pull herself to her feet.

“I’m fine, Jase,” she said, softly, then straightened. “Lieutenant Forest.”

The Marine straightened, apparently automatically. “Ma’am?”

“You and I are going to have a conversation, and you are not going to like it,” she said. Her voice was a little slurred, from her split lip, but as sharp as ever. “We can do it in private, if you’d prefer.”

To his credit, Forest stood his ground. “No, ma’am, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I realize that I didn’t explicitly order you not to escape, lieutenant, and perhaps that was an oversight on my part. But I did have a reasonable assumption, as ranking officer of this mission, that you wouldn’t take potentially fatal risks without my permission.”

“With respect, ma’am—”

“Is it?” Gryff interrupted. “Because I’m not seeing it, lieutenant. Even without a direct order, I believe I made it clear that we would _wait_ before attempting escape.”

“Ma’am, we have a duty to escape, so that we can continue serving in the fight against the Goa’uld.”

“A duty,” she repeated. “You have a _duty_ to follow orders. Mine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Forest, through gritted teeth. “Unless and until I believe that your orders are counter to our mission objective.”

“Mission? Lieutenant, our mission was over the minute we got stunned and transported here. As of that moment, we were on our own, and as the ranking officer, it was my responsibility to reevaluate our priorities. Did it occur to you, lieutenant, that this is hardly the first time my team has faced this situation? That my plan for our escape— _and_ the escape of other innocents— has been significantly hindered by my having to take beatings meant for you?”

Forest had the decency to wince at that, but he stayed silent.

Gryff snorted. “I’ve met officers like you, lieutenant, more than you’d believe. It’s not that there are women as officers. I believe you really _don’t_ have a problem with that. As long as we serve as secretaries, or quartermasters, or other safe, unmanly jobs, right? I’m sure you believe I broke, when Fonz tortured me. That I was a disgrace to my uniform, that I started sobbing like a little girl.”

“I…” Forest began.

“Because that is exactly what I did,” said Gryff.

Jason frowned, along with the rest of the men. “What?”

“Like a little girl,” she repeated. “Sobbing uncontrollably, in a pathetic heap on the floor— right on top of the pile of gear he had in a corner.”

“Nice,” said Toby, smiling, and their CO smiled back.

“So, lieutenant, would _you_ have managed to hide a GDO in your bra?”

The other Marine turned slightly pink, under all the grime. “No, ma’am, I would not.”

“But there is the fact,” Gryff continued, her smile fading, “that the Jaffa now expect us to attempt escape, and will be watching for it. I am still in command here, lieutenant, and I am _ordering_ you not to take any action, of any kind, on your own initiative. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Forest snapped. 

“Am I clear?” repeated Gryff, to the rest of his team, and they chorused their agreement. “Get back to work.”

SG-19 picked up their shovels again and moved off, but SG-22 closed ranks around their commander.

“Nice trick with the GDO,” said Toby. “You got anything else in there?”

Gryff grinned, lopsidedly. “You shouldn’t ask a lady that.”

“Not asking a lady, I’m asking you.”

“Oh, nice,” she said, dryly. “And, no, sorry. Even with all the flailing and crying, I didn’t have much time to stash anything.”

“So, tonight?” Jason asked.

“The guards’ tent,” put in Levi, suddenly. “At night, they’re all there. We could, I don’t know, set fire to it—”

“I do the cooking,” said a voice, suddenly. A man rested his shovel beside them, tired but determined. “I have the means to make fire.”

“Yeah?” Gryff asked, falsely casual. “You’d help us?”

“To escape this place?” the man replied. “Gladly.”

“It will be risky,” Gryff said. “We have no weapons, no supplies. But if you can get us a distraction, and we can get people to the stargate, we can get you all off this planet.”

“There are others who will help,” the man said. “We will follow _you_.”

He turned away without another word, deliberately crossing to avoid Forest and SG-19.

“Sir?” Jason prompted.

Gryff raised her pickaxe, wincing as she pulled sore muscles. “We go tonight,” she said.

Her bruises had turned a nasty shade of purple by the time the end-of-shift gong rang, and this time, Jason let Gryff pass him half of her gruel, complaining about her split lip, before they turned in for the night.

The planet’s single moon had just risen above the trees when Gryff touched his shoulder. Jason rose silently, poking Levi in turn, and found the man they’d spoken to earlier standing beside his CO.

“You’re with him, gunny,” said Gryff. “We need weapons.”

He nodded. “Understood.”

The other prisoner had a piece of flint and steel, and together they crept toward the guards’ tent. It was a tense few moments until the thick fabric of the tent caught fire, and Jason took up position just outside the entrance. There was sudden shouting from inside, and a single Jaffa darted through— Jason grabbed his staff weapon and fired before the guard even registered his presence, then continued shooting as more guards emerged.

He grabbed up the fallen staff weapons as the rest of the Jaffa finally wrenched open a wall of the tent, and they made a hasty retreat.

“Sir!” he called. “Trouble!”

Gryff caught the staff weapon he tossed her, and took up position at the edge of the trail to the ‘gate. Jason handed off weapons to more of their fellow prisoners, and they laid down cover fire while Toby and Levi raced for the ‘gate.

“Most of the guards are dead now,” said Forest. Surprisingly, he carried a P90, and a standard-issue pack. “Valdez snagged these from the burning tent.”

“Well done,” said Gryff, taking the radio he held out. “Is there another? Good, get it to the ‘gate, and take as many of these people with you as you can.”

More than half of the prisoners followed SG-19 down the path, and Gryff gave the signal for her fighters to begin to fall back. 

“ _Gryff!_ ” yelled Levi, over the radio. “ _The ‘gate’s open, bring them through!_ ”

“Fall back!” Gryff called. “Everyone, fall back!”

Jason and Duquesne led the tumble back toward the ‘gate, with Forest, Valdez and O’Roarke in the middle, and Gryff bringing up the rear. Nearly all of the now-former-miners were already through, and the two teams followed, until Jason and Gryff were the only ones left.

“That’s everyone, sir!” Jase called.

She fired another shot at the few guards still approaching, and started backwards toward the ‘gate. Jason could already feel the tiny tug as he started through the wormhole when a staff weapon blast flashed between them. He grabbed the waistband of Gryff’s BDU pants and fell backwards through to the SGC Gate Room.

“Shut down the ‘gate!” Jason and Gryff yelled, in unison, as they hit the ramp, and the wormhole shut off into sudden, ringing silence.

The whole bunch of them where bundled off to the infirmary— Gryff was the worst off, by far, but they were all pretty beat up— and Dr. Fraiser had sharp words for everyone. Jason took his stitches without complaining, sent Levi off to get some sleep, and silently agreed with Toby to take the first watch of not letting Gryff sneak out of the infirmary before she was really okay.

Which was why he was slumped in the chair beside her bed when Forest came to stand on its other side, wearing a clean uniform. “Captain Gryffydd?”

“Lieutenant Forest?” she said.

“Ma’am,” he began, sounding awkward. “General Hammond has asked for a preliminary debriefing on our mission. Is there anything you would like me to relate?”

Gryff paused, taking a deep breath and trying not to jar the staff weapon burn on her thigh. “No, lieutenant,” she said, slowly. “You should make your report to the general, and I’ll make mine.”

“Understood, ma’am,” he said, and left.

“We’re not going to take any missions with SG-19 again, are we, sir?” Jason asked, without opening his eyes.

Gryff didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that he was awake. “Some people’s minds just can’t be changed, Jase,” she said. “Get some sleep.”

Jason let out a long breath. “Yes, sir.”


	57. There Will Be Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Actually okay, or your usual definition of okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "fall" & "don’t believe the things you tell yourself so late at night, and you are your own worst enemy and you’ll never win the fight. Just hold on to me, I’ll hold onto you; it’s you and me up against the world, it’s you and me” (“Parachute” by Ingrid Michelson) (bonus: hurt/comfort)

Gryff was out of bed, heart hammering, before she was even fully awake, the last traces of her nightmare still clinging to the edges of her mind as her bare feet hit the hall carpet. She didn’t remember much— she had never remembered her dreams, or nightmares, even when she was a kid— but she knew it had been bad.

None of them slept with their doors closed, a habit she would contemplate later, so she could see Levi slumped against his pillow with a book in his lap, Toby sprawled on top of his blankets, Jason with an arm over his eyes…

“Sir?” Jason was awake, arm lowering to peer at her by the dim light filtering up from the staircase. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gryff replied, still a little breathless. She leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m… yeah.”

He sat up, frowning. “Actually okay, or your usual definition of okay?”

She snorted a laugh. “Actually okay. I just… I needed to see you guys.”

“Ah,” said Jason. “One of those. What was it this time?”

It was probably a bad sign that they each had specific types of nightmares that the others could identify by their aftermaths. Gryff’s most common fear was losing her team— even when she didn’t remember the dream itself, she woke with the overwhelming need to just _see_ her team.

“I was falling,” she said. “No, I wasn’t falling, _you_ were falling. All three of you, maybe, but I don’t think I could see you. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t get to you, I couldn’t do anything…” Gryff took a deep breath. “And then I woke up. And you’re not dead.”

“Nope, not dead,” Jason agreed. “Sir, do you—?”

“Gryff?” Toby leaned in his own doorway. “You okay?”

This time, her smile was genuine. “Yeah. You up for a sleepover? I’ll make pancakes in the morning.”

“Deal,” Toby and Jason said in unison, and she grinned.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll get Levi.”

Gryff woke the next morning after a dreamless sleep, with Toby’s nose pressed between her shoulder blades and Levi’s feet warm against her shin, and closed her eyes again… until Jason said, sleepily, “I was promised pancakes.”


	58. No Burden Is He

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just hang in there, Jason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” by The Hollies

“Just hang in there, Jason,” said Levi. He had one of the Marine’s arms slung over his shoulders and Gryff had the other, the two of them bearing nearly all of his weight. Toby was just ahead, carrying their gear and ready to dial the ‘gate as soon as they reached it.

They weren’t sure exactly what had happened— the planet was uninhabited, but Jason seemed to have taken a tumble down a short cliff, which wouldn’t have been a problem except for the very sharp branches at the bottom. They’d patched him up as best they could, and now all they could do was get him back home.

Jason made an indistinct noise and tried to get his feet more securely under him, but Gryff knocked her head lightly against his. “Hey, quit it,” she said, softly. “Let us do the heavy lifting, okay?”

He nodded and closed his eyes. “Yes, sir.”


	59. Parental Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff’s parents arrive unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (random words - huge, communicate, accept, unused, cause)

“Igraine Blodeuwedd Gryffydd!”

Gryff startled awake, reacting to the tone of the voice long before the words registered. She tried to sit up, but was stopped by the heavy arm across her middle, and she flopped back onto her pillow.

“Mom?” she said, fuzzily, to the person in the doorway, who reached out to turn on the lights. “ _Mom_. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“What time…?” Rachel Gryffydd repeated.

“Did Gryff know you were coming and forget to tell us, Mrs. Gryffydd?” mumbled Levi, into Gryff’s shoulder.

“Well, no,” her mother allowed. “Your father and I realized we had enough **unused** frequent flyer miles, and we hadn’t seen you in a while, and… You _are_ all wearing something, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mom,” said Gryff, patiently.

“Cutie?” called her father’s voice, from the hallway. “Did you manage to wake our— Ah.” Frank Gryffydd stopped in the doorway. “Ah. I’ll, um, make some coffee?”

“That would be fantastic,” said Gryff. “Jase will help you.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jason, sliding out of bed. “I’ll get the meds, too.”

“Thanks,” said Gryff, as they left. She wriggled out from under Toby’s arm, to sit up and shake him. “Toby, c’mon, get up.”

Her second-in-command groaned. “Ow,” he said, fervently, blinking up at her. 

“I know, buddy,” said Gryff. “But maybe if you’re real nice, Mom’ll make us all breakfast.”

“Mom?” he repeated. “Oh, Mrs. Gryffydd… _Oh_ , this isn’t— we’re not—”

“We’re postponing that bit,” said Levi. He got to his feet, moving stiffly, but steadily. Gryff ducked under Toby’s arm, and they eased the lieutenant upright.

“Igraine, what happened?” asked Rachel. “Are you _all_ hurt?”

“Kind of,” said Gryff. “And you know I can’t tell you what happened.”

“I know, I know,” her mother said. “Toby, can you make it downstairs all right?”

He managed a smile. “I’ll be fine, Mrs. G.”

Gryff’s team had all spoken to her parents on the phone, at one point or another, but she was glad they were getting along in person, even if this wasn’t really the best time for it. Her mother stayed close behind them as they headed down the stairs, one hand near Toby’s shoulder, and by the time they got to the kitchen, the coffee was done.

“Okay,” said Gryff, taking a long drink from the mug Jason had handed her. “I am not having sex with these guys.”

Everyone was indignant all at once— “Gryff!” “Igraine!” “ _Seriously_ , Gryff?” “Before breakfast, sir?” “Rainy, really…?”

“It’s just been a long week,” said Gryff. “We were… out of town, and there was something of an accident…”

By ‘out of town’, of course, she meant that they’d been in an off-world naquadah mine, and by ‘accident’, she meant the small cave-in that had trapped Toby for long terrifying minutes before they’d been able to dig him out.

“But you’re all right?” Rachel pressed. “You’ve seen a doctor?”

“We’ve seen a doctor, Mrs. Gryffydd,” said Levi. He glanced sideways at Jason, **communicating** silently in that way they had. “But maybe you could have a look at Gryff— um, sorry, Igraine? She said your mom was a nurse, and she keeps wincing when she turns sideways…”

“I’m fine,” said Gryff, but her mother unceremoniously grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and lifted it to show the half-healed welts down her back. “See? Fine.”

“Those look terrible, Rainy,” said her father. “What even **caused** marks like that?”

“Klingon pain sticks,” Gryff muttered, which was what she always called those Goa’uld cattle-prod-things. “But it’s not as bad as it looks, Dad. Our base doctor is the best there is, and she says we’re going to be good as new.”

“Your daughter takes really good care of us,” Toby said, softly. “It’s easy to see where she gets that.”

Rachel’s expression softened, and she sighed. “I know I have to **accept** that what you do is classified, but that won’t keep me from worrying about you. All of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Gryff, for her whole team.

“Now,” said her mother, brightening. “I know Igraine was only joking about breakfast, but I think we can actually do something about that.”

The members of SG-22 grinned at each other. 

“Pancakes?” suggested Toby.

“One **huge** stack of pancakes, coming up,” said Rachel. She opened the fridge and frowned. “Igraine, do you even have anything edible in this house?”

SG-22 burst out laughing.


	60. Open All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s open at… what time is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "after midnight"

“I think my bruises have bruises,” Gryff muttered, after Janet had cleared them to go home.

“That’s not exactly hard,” said Toby, as the piled into the elevator to the surface. “Your skin takes marks like blank paper, and you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“I feel like I should be insulted by that,” she said, “but I’m too hungry.”

“I’m not cooking, sir,” said Jason. “What’s open at… what time is it?”

“After midnight,” put in Levi. “There’s the diner. That’s open all night, isn’t it?”

“Mm, pancakes,” said Toby.

Gryff laughed and unlocked the car. “Pancakes it is.”


	61. Feat of Togetherness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 participate in an off-world team-building game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “What Now?” ( _Etiquette and Espionage_ , by Gail Carriger, page 42)

“What now, sir?” asked Jason.

Gryff looked at the twelve-foot sheer rock face in front of them. “Give me a minute.”

There were seven teams of four participating in the Feat of Togetherness on P9X-512, which reminded Jason of a standard Marine Corps obstacle course, with the added challenge that the whole team had to complete each obstacle before starting on the next one. They had already crossed the four-inch-wide plank spanning a creek by sending Gryff (who had amazing balance for someone who fell over as often as she did) across to secure a guide rope for the others to hold on to, and they had chosen the right passageway in the first challenge after Levi had figured out a riddle in the local dialect, which had led them to a clear path instead of having to slog through the mud.

“Sir?” Jason prompted.

“Can you reach the top?” Gryff asked.

Jason jumped, but his fingertips barely brushed the edge, and he slid back down.

“Okay,” said Gryff. “Jason, Toby, give me a boost.”

Standing on their shoulders, she could easily reach the top. The rock face turned out to be a wall, about a foot wide, and Gryff braced herself to haul Jason up after her. With a firm hold of her wrists, it was easy to climb up, then turn around to help Toby, and for both of them to lift Levi. Jason slid down to the other side by lowering himself until he was holding on by his fingers, then dropping carefully. Toby did the same, and they caught Levi, but Gryff didn’t follow.

“Gryff, you coming?” Toby asked.

She stood at the top of the wall, looking out. “It’s a maze.”

“What?”

“The next obstacle. It’s a hedge maze. Levi, pass me the notebook.”

Each team had been issued a standard set of supplies, including the rope they’d used earlier, the local equivalent of a first aid kit, and a small stack of bound paper. Levi handed it up, and Gryff made a quick sketch before she slid from the wall to join her team. Toby took the pencil-thing and traced a route through the maze.

“This way.”

Jason grinned. “Let’s go.”

In the end, they came in third, but General Hammond let them keep the small beaded tapestry they’d won, and they hung it in the living room, where they could all see it.


	62. Size Matters Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 rescues a stranded MALP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “Remember to feel the Force!” ( _Star Wars: Jedi Academy_ by Jeffrey Brown, page 42)

“I don’t even know how it did this,” said Toby. “It’s supposed to be able to avoid obstacles.”

SG-22 had been sent to P6X-9241 to retrieve a MALP left by SG-8, after its onboard camera had failed and it didn’t make it back to the ‘gate when the SGC had sent the return-to-base signal. The planet was uninhabited, but the MALP had been taking weather readings and soil samples, to see about using the planet as a possible beta site— until the MALP had gotten itself wedged between two large rocky outcroppings, about fifty yards from the ‘gate.

“Probably bad programming,” said Gryff.

“I think I should be insulted,” said Toby. “I was working on the MALPs before I joined this motley crew.”

“Yes, but you’re an engineer, sir,” said Jason. “You didn’t do any of the programming, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Toby, brightening. “I think if we get some rope, we can just pull it out.”

It turned out that they couldn’t.

“What the hell?” said Jason, glaring at the MALP. The things were on wheels, he should have been able to get this one moving all by himself, but even with all four of them hauling on the ropes, they couldn’t do anything more than make the metal casing scrape against the rock face.

“Could we try lifting it?” Gryff asked.

Toby shook his head. “That would be worse. Do you think General Hammond would send us a tow truck?”

“Probably not,” said Levi. “Has anyone tried using the Force?”

“Do or do not, there is no try,” said Jason, and his teammates laughed.

Gryff let her rope drop and used the side of the MALP to climb up on the rock formation, a rough column about five feet high and four feet wide, then frowned. “Does this rock feel… heavy to you?”

Toby frowned, too, and pressed a hand against the column. “You don’t think it’s naquadah?”

“I think it is,” she said.

Her second-in-command grinned. “Then I’ve got an idea.”

“This is a very, very bad idea,” said Levi, a few minutes later, crouching with his team below a rise, half a dozen yards away.

“It’ll be fine, Lee,” said Gryff. “Jason, hit it.”

Jason pressed the button on the remote detonator, and a shower of gravel chips flew over their heads, following on the heels of an almighty _boom!_ The four members of SG-22 scrambled out from cover to inspect the damage.

The rock column where they had placed the tiny blob of C-4 had cracked at the base, toppling out of the way and leaving only a faint singe mark on the MALP’s metal casing.

“Not bad, sir,” said Jason. He grabbed the tow rope and pulled— and the MALP rolled forward.

“Okay,” said Levi. “Maybe not such a bad idea.”


	63. Couldn't Possibly Do Without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We don’t expect the impossible from you, Gryff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “ _Darling Perdita, you are_ washing _them beautifully and keeping them warm at night._ ” ( _The One Hundred and One Dalmatians_ by Dodie Smith, page42)

“Bathroom’s all yours, sir,” said Jason, carefully pulling on the soft-worn t-shirt that Gryff had left for him while he was in the shower. He still looked awful, even with all the dried blood washed away, but he was moving a little less stiffly. “You need any help with the lieutenant?”

Gryff shook her head. “No, I can manage. You should get some rest. But could you…?” She stopped herself from finishing the question, feeling selfish for even wanting to ask, but Jason smiled.

“We’ll stay in your room tonight,” he said. “I’ll get Levi.”

The sociologist had gone to shower in the boys’ bathroom, while Jason had been in the master bath, since both of them could more or less maneuver on their own. They’d each gotten more than a few scrapes and bruises on their last mission, but they had already been half-healed by the time they’d made it home. Toby was the worst off, nursing three bruised ribs, one broken one, and a sprained wrist, on top of his own cuts and scrapes, while Gryff had returned, this time, with hardly a mark on her.

Toby sat on his bed, still looking pale from his trip up the stairs, and he leaned heavily on Gryff as she helped him into the master bathroom.

“Usually, I buy a girl a drink first,” he joked, as Gryff helped ease him out of his loose scrub top without jostling his ribs.

“C’mon, I think you’ve gotten to at least second base with me by now,” she said.

He laughed, then winced. “Stop being funny, Gryff, it hurts too much to laugh.”

“Sorry,” she said.

Gryff closed her eyes as Toby slid out of his pants, but held out a hand to steady him. After a moment, she heard splashing and he squeezed her hand. “Okay, I’m decent.”

“That’s debatable,” she said. She grabbed a clean washcloth and turned back, then froze, sitting on the edge of the tub.

Toby had always had a very even complexion, mocha-latte-colored skin that tanned a deep bronze all over rather than freckling, but now his broad back was covered in welts, scratches and fading bruises. Dr. Fraiser had said that none of them would leave a scar, but Gryff felt her stomach lurch at the sight of them.

“Hey,” Toby said, softly. His hand came up to curl around her wrists, finger-light so he wouldn’t press on the livid bruises beneath. He traced his thumb on one scabbed-over place, where Gryff had pulled so hard at the ropes holding her that she’d broken the skin. “It’s not your fault.”

“You know I don’t believe that.” She handed him the washcloth and reached for the shampoo. “It’s my responsibility.”

“To be hurt?” he asked. “To stop us from being hurt, even when there’s nothing you can do? We don’t expect the impossible from you, Gryff.”

“Maybe I expect it from myself.”

“The only reason we’re mostly okay with that is that you usually deliver,” said Toby. “Now, I thought you were going to wash my hair?”

Gryff managed a smile. “Okay.”


	64. Contemplating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "[photo #7](http://i1219.photobucket.com/albums/dd431/LadyTanha/writerverse/desert_zpsb64f4396.jpg)"

“Hey, guys,” Levi said, slowly.

The other three members of SG-22 looked up from where they were assembling their tent for the night— technically, Levi was supposed to be helping, but he had stopped working a few moments before, looking out to the horizon.

“What, Lee?” said Toby.

“The sky. Isn’t it beautiful?” The sociologist turned back to them, a wondering expression on his face. “How often do we spend days all alone on an alien planet? And how often do we actually stop to think about that?”

“Probably not as often as we should,” said Gryff. She finished securing her corner of the tent and straightened. “It is pretty awesome, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” agreed Jason. “For all we know, we’re the only ones on this whole planet. Maybe we’re the first people to see this sun set in a couple thousand years.”

“That sounds pretty cool,” said Toby, just as the unsecured side of the tent began collapsing.

“Hey,” said Gryff, laughing. “Let’s get this tent set up, and then we can all sit around contemplating the meaning of life and stuff.”

Levi smiled. “Sure, Gryff.” Then, he frowned, holding up a piece of tent. “Now, where does this one go?”


	65. Tied Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby and Levi wake up in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (dialogue only)

“Lee? Levi? Levi Flannigan, _wake up_!”

“What!? Toby… what?”

“You okay?”

“Are we tied to a wooden post in the pitch dark?”

“It would appear so.”

“Then, no, I’m not okay. What happened?”

“Don’t know. Lee, really, are you hurt?”

“Well, my head hurts, but I think I’m okay. But, um, have I ever mentioned that I don’t really like the dark?”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it. I’d help if I could.”

“I know, Toby. Gryff and Jason?”

“Not here. Hopefully, they got away and are bringing help.”

“And if we’re not feeling hopeful?”

“Then we’re on our own. Are you tied up like me, wrists behind you, feet loose?”

“Yeah. Feels cold in front of me. A cave, maybe? And kind of warm behind— What the hell was that!?”

“Sorry, sorry, that was just me. Is that you?”

“Holding my hand? I really hope so.”

“That’s me, Levi. Scoot over to your right. Your other right. Okay! I can feel the knot, hold still while I…”

“I’m loose!”

“Quiet! What if they hear you?”

“Sorry. Okay, Toby, let me get yours.”

“Thanks, Lee. Stay here for a second, and keep talking. I want to feel my way around, and I need to know where you are.”

“Um, okay. What should I talk about? I mean, usually, you guys are all telling me to shut up. But I can talk if you need me to talk. I can talk about… oh, I read this article the other day, about the— God, Toby, don’t _do_ that!”

“Sorry. But I found an exit. You were right about this being a cave, and there’s nothing here but us and the pole we were tied to. And we’ve been talking out loud this whole time, so if nobody’s come by now, we should try to make a break for it.”

“Right. I wish Gryff were here.”

“Thanks, Lee.”

“What? No, I mean… You didn’t see any light, through the exit, right? We could be really deep in this cave, and Gryff is really good at getting out of mazes.”

“Yeah, she is. But we’ll be fine. Right?

“Right. Lead the way, Toby.”


	66. Press Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 make Christmas spritz cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (write about cooking/food)

“Okay,” said Levi, turning the cookbook back to the first page of the recipe. “Batch three… three cups of flour.”

Jason carefully measured the flour into a bowl, then added each of the other ingredients as Levi read them out. “How’s the coloring coming, sir?”

Gryff, on the other side of the kitchen table, held up a ball of dough. “I don’t know. Is this green enough for Christmas trees?”

Levi nodded. “Looks good.”

“Says the Jewish boy,” teased Toby, but he took the dough from his CO to cover with plastic wrap and store in the fridge. “I think the first batches are ready to roll.”

“You mean press,” said Gryff. 

She reached for the weird-looking thing she’d gotten out and set in the middle of the table. It was a metal tube with a handle at the top, a twisty-looking one like an outdoor water spigot. Levi set down the recipe book to watch her fit a flat metal dye into one end, then put in the ball of yellow dough that Toby handed her. She screwed on the top, which had a flat disk to push the dough, on the other end of a long screw from the handle. Gryff grabbed a baking sheet, set the tip of the cookie press against it and _twisted_.

A yellow, blobby mess appeared when she lifted it up again.

“That’s a Christmas star?” Levi asked.

“The first one never turns out right,” said Gryff, and the next row of cookies were perfect four-point stars. She finished a sheet of cookies and Toby put it in the oven. “Lee, do you want to try?”

Levi eyed the cookie press warily. “What if I can’t make them pretty like you can?”

Gryff laughed. “They’ll still taste good. Give it a try.”

Half of the cookies— yellow stars, green wreaths and trees, pink poinsettias and, for some reason, blue camels— came out crooked or misshapen. 

But they all tasted good.


	67. Finding the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 avoid an off-world rockslide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson) & “How Many Roads” (song by Bob Dylan) (bonus: humor)

Toby had watched a lone, fist-sized rock _plink, plink_ its way down the side of the steep hill, following its path as it bounced along protrusions and landed with a _thump_ at his feet. He was still looking at the rock when he heard a loud rumble overhead.

“Rockslide!” he shouted, and suddenly, all of SG-22 was running at full-tilt away from the slope.

The trees started after a few yards, and the three men fell back to let Gryff take the lead. Toby still didn’t know how she did it, but somehow, the captain could make her way through the thickest woods without ever once meeting a dead-end or dangerous obstacle. It wasn’t any kind of sense of direction— once they stopped running, she’d have no idea where they were— but they had all learned to trust it.

They kept running as long as they could hear the rumble behind them, mixed with the louder crashes of large boulders hitting the trees. Gryff took a hard left, and the others followed, until they finally slowed to a stop in a large, sunny clearing.

“Oh, my god,” wheezed Levi, doubled over with his hands on his knees. “Please tell me we can stop now.”

“We can stop,” said Jason. “I don’t hear anything.”

“I don’t think we should go back the way we came, though,” said Toby. “The loose rocks could be dangerous, and we might even start another slide.”

“Can we get back to the ‘gate another way?” asked Gryff.

Her second-in-command nodded. “SG-8 launched an UAV to take some aerial shots, and I seem to recall that there were roads to the east of the ridge we just left… which is that way.”

He pointed off to their left, and Levi frowned. “Which road goes back to the stargate?”

“Um…” said Toby.

Gryff laughed. “We’ll take the first one we come to, and just keep going east,” she said. 

They started walking again, this time following Toby. After a long moment, Levi said, “Okay, I gotta ask again. Gryff, how the hell do you always get us through the woods? Is it magic?”

His teammates all laughed. “When I figure it out,” said Gryff, “you’ll be the first to know.”


	68. Lean on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes needing someone to lean on is completely literal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "parallel"

“These are going to need stitches,” said Janet, running professional fingers along the four parallel gashes in Gryff’s right side. “Do you think you can sit still enough for just a local anesthetic?”

“I…” Gryff began. She hated being knocked out, hated the groggy feeling it gave her, but she wasn’t sure she could hold still.

“Give her the local, doc,” said Toby, coming around the curtain from the next bed. “She can lean on me.”

Gryff nodded to Janet, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder, letting Toby curl his hands over her shoulder blades. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Anytime.”


	69. Forever Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff goes for a run after a mission gone bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “The Green Fields of France” (by Dropkick Murpheys)

Gryff slowed to a walk as the trees faded to more open space. She had never run this far before, had never needed to burn off as much frustration while she was still physically able to run, and as she drew nearer, she saw that it wasn’t a field, but a cemetery, an old one, tucked back into the woods.

Breathing hard, she stopped at a weathered tombstone, then sank to sit beside it. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, half-joking, then looked closer at the grave.

_Willy McBride_ , it said. Died in 1916, and he’d only been nineteen, died in World War One. He’d been a soldier, then, even if he was just a kid.

Like Sergeant McLean, the Marine they’d lost on P3X-445. He’d turned twenty the month before— he’d mentioned it on the walk to the village— not even old enough to drink in the States, but old enough to die on an alien planet.

Gryff took a shaky breath and used the gravestone to push herself back to her feet. She hadn’t run quite far enough, yet.


	70. Insufficient Funds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff’s nose is definitely broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "chartreuse" & “It is often that a person’s mouth broke his nose.”

“Oh, yes, it’s definitely broken,” said Janet. She lifted her fingers away from Gryff’s nose, then caught the other woman’s hand before she could touch it herself. “ _Quite_ broken.”

Gryff made a show of folding her hands in her lap. “Can you do anything about it?” she asked.

Janet leaned in again, considering. “Possibly,” she said. “But it’s already started healing— you said this happened three days ago?”

“Give or take,” said Toby, standing next to the exam bed. “Maybe three and a half.”

“It is healing a little bit crooked,” said Janet. “I could straighten it, but that would mean re-breaking it, and I’d really rather we avoid that, wouldn’t you?”

“Probably for the best,” Gryff agreed. “I break enough bones as it is.”

“But it’s healing well, isn’t it, Janet?” asked Levi. “I mean, it’s turned that sickly green color Gryff’s bruises go when they’re healing up. You should have seen her a couple of days ago, when half her face was purple— she looked like a raccoon!— but now it’s all… what would you call that color?”

“Vomit,” said Jason, at the same time that Toby said, “Chartreuse,” and Gryff scowled at both of them, as best as she could with a broken nose.

“Nice, boys,” she drawled. “Pick on the injured, why don’t you.”

Toby rested a hand on her shoulder. “I believe there’s a saying for that, Gryff— Don’t let your mouth write checks your nose can’t cash.”

The team all laughed, which made Gryff wince. “It’s your turn to cook, Jase,” she said. “Think maybe we could have something easy to chew?”

He smiled. “Sure thing, sir.”


	71. Scoot Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, scoot over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "hurt/comfort"

“Hey, scoot over,” Gryff said, standing next to the armchair where Levi sat.

He frowned. “What?”

Instead of answering, she sat down, her butt on the seat next to him but her legs over his. She wriggled a bit, tugging his arm around her waist as she got comfortable, then leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I— Gryff?” Levi asked, hand fluttering. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I mean, no, everything hurts and I feel like crap, but yeah, I’m okay.”

Levi laughed, careful not to jostle her, and settled his arms around her. “Okay.”


	72. Feast Ready to Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 make the most of an off-world meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "feast"

“Look at it this way,” said Toby. “At least we’re not in a naquadah mine.”

Gryff laughed. “Our expectations are really so low that not doing forced labor is a success?”

“At this point, sir?” said Jason. “Hell, yes.”

“But… as long as we’re together, right?” put in Levi.

He held out his MRE to swap his desert for Gryff’s, and Jason reached into his pack. “I snuck something in,” he said, holding up four paper packets.

“Hot chocolate!” said Toby. “Nice work, Jase.”

“We never even saw those,” Gryff warned, and put a pot of water on the fire.


	73. Sun Goes Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 is stuck off-world, but that’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "day turns into night"

“So,” said Gryff, coming back from her fourth turn trying to dial the ‘gate and dropping down onto the bluff beside her team. “We’re still stuck on this planet. We’ve got no camping supplies. We’re three hours overdue and nobody’s come looking for us yet. We’ve been awake for all of this planet’s twenty-seven hour day, and we still don’t know if it’s inhabited or not, so we’re going to have to set a watch.”

She paused, smiling. “But at least the sunset is pretty.”

“Yes, it is,” Toby agreed, and handed her a dented tin cup of instant coffee.


	74. Have a Nice Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff arrives at the Alpha Site.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "fell off the face of the earth"

Gryff tripped over her own feet, just as she went to step through the event horizon and she tumbled forward, rolling into the Alpha Site base to land spread-eagle on her back.

“Captain Gryffydd?” asked an airman, and she waved a hand.

The other three members of SG-22 raced through the stargate after her, crouching around her with almost-identical expressions of worry. 

“Gryff!” said Toby, “Are you okay?”

“I,” she said, laughing even with the breath still knocked out of her. “I fell off the face of the earth!”

“Oh, my god,” Levi muttered, and Gryff’s team laughed with her.


	75. One More Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of SG-22 do a little reading before bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "bedtime story" 
> 
> Quote is from _The Secret Garden_ by Frances Hodgson Burnett

“ _After she was gone, Mary turned down the walk which led to the door in the shrubbery_ ,” Gryff read, sitting up against the headboard of her bed. “ _She could not help thinking about the garden which no one had been into for ten years._ ”

Levi was already asleep, curled up on her left. Jason was nearly there, propped up on the sociologist’s other side, but Toby was still awake, head on Gryff’s hip. He shifted a little, and she stopped reading.

“Hey,” Gryff said. “Ready to sleep?”

Toby hesitated. “To the end of the chapter?” he asked.

She nodded. “Sure.”


	76. Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 wake up off-world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "dawn is coming"

Toby wasn’t sure what had woken him, at first. His teammates were still asleep— Levi snoring lightly at his back, Jason half-sitting against the rock face, Gryff curled up under his arm— but he nudged them awake as the second chevron thudded into place.

“What?” Gryff grumbled, even as her hand went to her sidearm. “Oh.”

Sunrise was only just beginning, a thin ring of pale light on the horizon that put the stargate in silhouette, and illuminated the four figures walking toward them.

“Hey, the rescue party’s here,” Jason said.

Toby waved, “Good morning, SG-1!” and his team laughed.


	77. Wearing Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 runs into some severe off-world weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "helmet" & "bad weather"

“Go ahead and say it,” Toby sighed, then hissed out a breath as Gryff pressed the antiseptic wipe a little too hard against his scalp. He was usually their field medic, but when _he_ was the one who was injured, the duty typically fell to their CO.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, and folded the slightly-bloody wipe into the waste bag of the first aid kit, before pulling out a second.

Toby smiled and reached up to tap her, lightly, on the edge of her helmet. “You know what. We’ve been making fun of you for wearing your helmet through the ‘gate since, oh, about the third week we were doing this.”

Gryff smiled and began packing away the first aid supplies. “Up until now, what we usually encounter on the other side of every ‘gate are lots of trees.”

“Except for this time, where there was a sudden storm of grapefruit-sized hail, and guess who _doesn’t_ have a horrible head wound?”

“Technically, everyone but you,” said Jason, “Lee and I got walloped pretty good, but you’re the only one who was bleeding.”

“I _mean_ ,” said Toby, “that Gryff’s preference for long-term preparedness over short-term comfort is clearly superior to our short-term enjoyment of sunshine in our hair, and she has every right to say it.”

Gryff smiled again, and patted his shoulder. “I told you so.”


	78. Back to the Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff trusts Levi to do his part in their rescue plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "sometimes the sincerest show of faith is when it is tested again and again"

Gryff pulled her last spare clip from her vest, ignoring the blood trickling from her broken nose, and slid it into her P-90.

“I need you to get to the ‘gate, Levi,” she said. “And get ready to dial out the second I get back with Jason and Toby.”

“Gryff—”

She rested a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. “The ‘gate, Lee,” Gryff repeated. “If— when— we come back, we’ll be coming in hot, and I need to know that you’ll be holding the ‘gate.”

Levi tightened his grip on his handgun, until his knuckles turned white, and swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

Gryff smiled, and let him go. She waited for Levi to move from their cover first, making his way back through the trees toward the ‘gate, then headed in the opposite direction. 

She took out the first Jaffa guard before he even knew he was there, but it alerted the rest that she was there, and she ducked a staff weapon blast that sent up a spray of dirt from the ridge where she’d last seen the other half of her team. The second blast was closer, searing heat along her left shoulder, and she went sprawling to the ground.

Then, suddenly, a hand hit her thigh, pulling the pistol from her holster, and the two remaining Jaffa went down.

“Nice shot, Toby,” said Gryff, accepting his hand to get back to her feet. “You okay, Jase?”

The Marine nodded, pale but steady on her feet, and she handed him her P-90 before scooping up one of the fallen staff weapons. 

“Levi’s waiting,” she said. “Let’s go home."


	79. To the Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 join an off-world festival of trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (random words - must be in story)

The people of P3X-9947 held an annual festival to honor the forest around their village, which was celebrated by everyone, from the oldest grandmother to the tiniest baby, spending the night in the branches of the towering oak **trees**.

SG-8 had failed to mention this fact when they passed the check-back mission to Gryff’s team, and she was already planning the talking-to she was going to give them **later**. She was fine with heights, liked them in fact, but Levi in particular was not a fan.

“The whole night?” he repeated. “ **Sleeping** in a tree?”

“It has been done for generations, Dr. Flannigan,” said the village headman, a tiny elderly man called Grandfather Ellon. “The trees will allow no harm to come to you.”

Still, they let Gryff go first up the tree, finding the least-scary path for Levi to follow, with Toby and Jason sticking close below in case he fell. “Come on, Lee,” she said, as they reached the top. “Tell me this view isn’t worth it?”

He settled next to her on the branch, fingers twisted into the lacing on her tac vest, but let out a low, amazed breath. “ _Wow_.”

The forest stretched almost to the horizon, to the small sliver of crystal blue ocean they could see beyond, and they could see other heads poking out of the trees, enjoying the view.

Jason crowded in beside them, rooting in the sociologist’s vest for his camera. “We need a **photo** of this,” he said. “SG-8 is gonna be mad they missed it.”

“I’ll add it to the lecture I’m planning on complete intel sharing,” said Gryff, and her team **laughed**.


	80. Cupboards Are Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Levi’s turn to make dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (end with a given sentence)

It was Levi’s turn to make dinner. 

He wasn’t much of a cook, but even he could put those frozen casserole things into the oven, and they tried to divide up the chores as fairly as possible. Except, as he closed the front door behind them, he knew they didn’t have any frozen dinners left. They’d been planning to go shopping, before they’d been called in to join the rescue efforts for SG-9.

SG-1 had found them, of course, and all SG-22 had found was a squad of angry Jaffa. They’d gotten back to the ‘gate, but not until a full forty-eight hours after they’d left Earth and not before half of them had been injured— Gryff with a staff weapon graze to her ribs and Toby pretty scraped up from a tumble down a rocky hill.

“Bed,” said Jason, as they made their way, slowly, up the stairs.

“My room,” added Gryff, and they separated only long enough to change into their comfiest pajamas, then piled into their CO’s bed.

It was still Levi’s turn to make dinner, he thought as he fell asleep, curled up at Gryff’s uninjured side, and there was still nothing edible in their kitchen. He settled, and let sleep take him.

He’d come up with something later.


	81. Whiter Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dammit, Gryff, we _talked_ about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "pale"

The moment the wormhole disengaged behind SG-22, Gryff went white as a sheet and crumpled to the ‘gate ramp like a puppet with its strings cut. Her team rushed to her, calling for a medical team.

Toby turned her gently, and frowned when his hand came away bloody. “Dammit, Gryff, we _talked_ about this.”

She groaned and opened her eyes. “Did I pass out?”

“Yes,” her team chorused, as Fraiser and a nurse crowded them out of the way, and Jason added, “You didn’t mention this why, sir?”

Gryff shrugged, “Didn’t hurt until now,” and her team sighed, in unison.


	82. In the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff had still been on the planet when the bomb had gone off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "ran out of time"

“Fan out,” said Colonel O’Neill, while Levi coughed on the smoke-clogged air. “If Gryff’s still alive—”

“She _is_ , sir,” said Jason, stubbornly.

Major Carter winced. “That was a big bomb, sergeant. She might—”

“Jason!” yelled Toby, suddenly, from the other side of the exploded temple. “Here! She’s here!”

They needed Teal’c to help them shift the column that had fallen across what had once been the altar and there, scrunched up under the naquadah-inlaid alcove, sat Gryff.

“Hi,” she said, and Levi hauled her out into a hug.

“Contortionist,” he muttered, fondly, and she laughed against his shoulder.


	83. He Ain't Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff never leaves a man behind, even if he is heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "heavy duty"

Gryff’s lungs burned, but she kept going, feeling like she was walking uphill despite the even terrain as she leaned forward against the weight she carried.

Jason had woken briefly after the explosion, but hadn’t roused again, even when Gryff had unceremoniously rolled him into the travois she’d MacGyvered out of an emergency blanket and two staff weapons, tied to the sides of her tac vest.

“ _Captain Gryffydd, report_ ,” said Hammond’s worried voice, when she dialed Earth.

“Need medics,” she gasped, and tumbled through the wormhole, pulling Jason behind her.

She felt familiar hands catch her, and finally passed out.


	84. Red Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 are very aware their CO is a redhead. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "copper" & "anything that can go wrong will go wrong"

“This is it!” Gryff yelled, breathing hard, as SG-22 came to a ragged stop on the far side of P2X-9947’s dense forest. “I mean it this time, _this is it_!”

“Sir,” Jason began, almost as out-of-breath despite being in better shape. “SG-8 couldn’t have known—”

His CO wrenched off her helmet, running a hand through sweat-damp bangs. “We are a third-contact team,” she grumbled. “At least one actual SG team goes through any ‘gate before we do, sometimes _more than once_ , and I am getting damn sick of their crappy intel.”

“C’mon, Gryff,” said Toby. He sank down at the base of a tree and pulled out his canteen. “You can’t expect the other teams to engage every potential ally in a game of twenty questions. They look for the obvious warning signs, but this place had women councilpeople, weren’t ruled by a Goa’uld… there was nothing in their visit that even made SG-8 nervous.”

“Except for their secret murderous hatred for redheads!” she said.

“Okay, there’s that,” said Levi. “You know, I think I’m with Gryff on this one. This is the third planet that’s had a violent thing against red hair in two months.”

“Exactly!” said Gryff. “Can’t the other teams, I don’t know, drop a hint or something? Mention something to somebody in the street, _Hey, does anybody on your planet have red hair?_ ”

Toby passed her the canteen. “I’ll tell General Hammond to add that to the first contact procedure.”

She let out a shaky breath that ended on a laugh. “Yeah, okay. I’m just really sick of running.”

“Well, then, sir,” said Jason, “I think we’ve got a problem— how are we going to get back to the ‘gate.”

In unison, his three teammates looked back through the woods, and sighed.

Gryff sat down next to Toby and slumped over onto his shoulder. “Slowly,” she said, snorting another laugh. “Very slowly.”


	85. Two in the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Janet Fraiser’s patients isn’t missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (secondary character POV)

“Dr. Fraiser?”

Janet looked up from her paperwork to see Lieutenant Carmichael, the new nurse, standing in her office doorway. “Yes, lieutenant?”

He fidgeted, then said, “I’m really sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to be distracted, but one of the patients has left the infirmary without permission!”

“What?” said Janet. 

That wasn’t right— SG-1 was still off-world, Sergeant Siler had been released that afternoon, Major Marks was still on heavy painkillers, and…

“Ah,” she said. “Nobody’s missing, lieutenant. Come with me.”

Janet swept past him out into the ward, the six-foot-tall nurse hurrying to keep up, and pulled aside a curtain.

“Doctor Flannigan—?” Carmichael began. “Oh.”

Levi was still asleep, his sprained wrist balanced carefully on his stomach, but Gryff had climbed into the bed beside him, twisted close in a way that was definitely not good for her bruised ribs.

“Hey,” Janet said, softly, and put one hand at the small of the redhead’s back to straighten her torso. “You can stay, but only if you behave.”

“Oh, okay,” Gryff muttered sleepily, allowing Janet to rearrange her. “We can go home tomorrow, right?”

“If you’re good,” said Janet. She tugged the curtain closed again, and turned to the startled nurse. “Carmichael.”

“They’re not…?” he asked, awkwardly.

The doctor smiled. “You’ll learn, lieutenant, that SG teams are _very close_. Gryff— Captain Gryffydd— is notorious for sneaking in with any of her teammates. Unless she or they are badly hurt, it’s really just best to let them be.”

“I…” the younger man said, glancing back at the bed. “Really?”

“SG-22 are… unique,” said Janet, and went back to her paperwork.


	86. Staycation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 are on vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (write about vacation)

“Hey, sir,” said Jason, coming out into the back yard with a plate of sandwiches. “I’ve got—”

“Nope,” Gryff interrupted.

“I— What?”

“I’m not a ‘sir’,” she informed him, lowering her sunglasses with a smirk. Gryff was half-sitting in a plastic wading pool, in the shade of a beach umbrella stuck into the lawn, a thick book balanced on her upraised knee. “I am on vacation, and so are you.”

“Yeah,” added Toby. He took up most of the second plastic pool, lying on his back with his feet up on a lawn chair. “ _Vacation_.”

“I unplugged the phone,” Levi added, helpfully. He had his own lawn chair, his feet in the pool beside Toby.

“O-kay,” Jason said, with a snort of laughter. “Well, then, not-sir, I have sandwiches.”

He set the plate on the grass between the two pools and lowered himself into the water next to Gryff, and let out a long sigh.

“Better?” Toby asked, grinning.

The Marine cracked one eye, and grabbed a sandwich. “I’m guessing you’re not ‘sir’, either?”

The other man laughed. “Nope. Va-ca-tion!”

“Lee,” said Gryff, reaching for her bottle of sunblock, “you unplugged _all_ the phones?”

“Every single one,” he said.

“Vacation,” repeated Jason.

“Yep,” said Toby. “Two whole days.”


	87. Being Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Soldiers of the Tau’ri, hear the voice of your goddess!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "I think I'll be evil today" & "possibility"

“Hey, this _is_ nice,” said Jason, bouncing a little in General Hammond’s chair. “Doc Jackson wasn’t kidding.”

“Our leader has good taste,” said Gryff, then paused. “Think it’s time for my speech now?”

Toby checked his watch. “Sure. Don’t forget your voice.”

The redhead grinned and clicked on a tiny device on her collar, before picking up the phone and activating the base-wide intercom. “ _Soldiers of the Tau’ri!_ ” she cried, her voice now reverberating with fake-Goa’uld inflection. “ _Hear the voice of your goddess, Cloacina! Surrender yourselves, and I will show you mercy. Resist, and your deaths will be… unpleasant._ ”

“Nice,” said Levi, when she had hung up the receiver again. “But why ‘Cloacina’? Did I miss a memo?”

“Ancient Roman goddess of Rome’s sewer system,” she said.

Her team laughed with her. “Good choice,” said Toby. He perched on the edge of Hammond’s desk. “How long do you figure before the first new kid makes it up this far?”

“Ooh, tough call,” said Jason. “Sir?”

Gryff considered, but before she could answer, a soft warning alarm began beeping. “That’ll be SG-2 coming back,” she said, and ducked out of the office door. “Sergeant…?”

“We’re receiving Captain Ferretti’s IDC, ma’am,” said Harriman.

She nodded, coming into the Control Room and stopping beside him. “Open the iris.”

In the Gate Room below, the four members of SG-2 came clomping down the ramp, and waved up at them.

Gryff leaned over to the mic. “Hurry along to the infirmary, boys,” she called, then flicked on her Goa’uld voice again. “ _Or you shall face the wrath of your goddess_.”

Ferretti laughed. “Man, that’s creepy, Gryff. How’d you get tapped for villain duty?”

“Just lucky, I guess. Move it, Lou.”

He tossed her a mocking salute, and his team left.

“You’d better go, too, ma’am,” said Harriman. “One of the cadet teams has made it to level twenty-six.”

“Not bad,” said Gryff. “What kind of odds to you give them actually beating us?”

He looked up at her. “Your whole team, ma’am?”

“One not-so-humble Goa’uld and her loyal newly-minted Jaffa.”

Harriman smiled. “I’d bet on you, then.”

There was the sound of Intar fire from far away, and Gryff smiled wickedly. “Time to be evil,” she said.


	88. Checked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Gryff is also the base librarian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt _And all the books I’ve read and all the things I know/But the mystery lives on_ (“The Rifle and the Song”)

A lot of the time, Jason forgot that Gryff was a librarian. 

It seemed like a hard thing to forget, with her being as nerdy as she was, having a book quote at the ready for just about any occasion, but when they were fighting their way to the ‘gate after four days in a deep naquadah mine and she was covering their escape with increasingly-accurate staff weapon fire, it wasn’t exactly something he thought about. 

At least, not until they got back to the SGC.

“Gryff, you’re supposed to be resting,” Toby protested, sounding like he knew she wouldn’t listen as they stopped in the doorway of the tiny base library.

“I was gone for less than a week!” said Gryff.

There weren’t that many books in the small room to begin with, mostly a motley collection of dog-eared paperbacks and out-of-print research materials, but it looked as if someone had gone through every one of them, not quite putting them back where they belonged.

“Less than a week,” Gryff repeated. She moved to grab a stack of books and winced when she bumped her sprained wrist. “Who could have possibly…?”

“Give me that, sir,” said Jason, and took the books from her. “Lee, can you check the computer?”

Levi sat at the check-out desk, and booted up the computer. “Ah,” he said. “The last dozen books were checked out by Daniel Jackson.”

Gryff sighed. “I’m gonna smack that clueless archaeologist…” she began, and was halfway down the hall before her team caught up with her.

“Not until your wrist heals,” Toby said, and she laughed, “Okay.”


	89. The Flame of Friendship True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 camp out in their own backyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt _These are good times, sitting by the fireside/Put another log on so the mood won’t disappear_ (“These Are Good Times”, Trout Fishing in America)

“There’s something wrong with this,” said Levi, as he closed the back door behind him.

The other three members of his team looked up from the fire circle they’d made in the grass, right in their own backyard, Gryff poking the logs into a better alignment while Toby arranged blankets and Jason popped open a bag of marshmallows.

“What?” said Gryff. “This is a regulation fire, made to the exacting specifications of the nineteen-fifty-seven edition of the _Brownie Girl Scout Field Guide_.”

“No, but also yes,” said Levi. “How many thousand times have we done this off-world?”

“Yeah,” said Jason. “But this time we can make s’mores.”

“And coffee from a real coffee pot,” Toby added. “And when it gets too cold, and we’re sticky and smoky, we can go inside to take showers and sleep in real beds.”

Levi _hmm_ ed. “That’s true,” he said. “And somebody said s’mores?”

“Yes, I did.” Jason handed him a metal skewer and the bag of marshmallows. “Yell when you’re ready for chocolate and— graham crackers. Really, sir?”

Gryff looked up. “What?” she asked, her mouth full of chocolate. “I’ll save enough for the s’mores.”

Levi plopped onto the blanket beside her, laughing so hard that he tipped over onto Toby’s shoulder. “I have the best team in the _universe_ ,” he said.

Jason grinned. “Yeah, you do.”


	90. On High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff gets a little perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt _I was climbing in a tree/When I fell and skinned my knee/It hurt but I didn’t cry at all_ (“I Think I’ll Need a Bandaid”, Trout Fishing in America)

“Well, that’s easy,” said Toby. “Someone will just have to climb a tree and tell us how far we ended up from the ‘gate.”

Gryff scowled. “Why do you say ‘someone’ when you clearly mean me?”

“Makes it sound more fair, sir,” said Jason. “But the lieutenant and I are too heavy to get high enough, and Lee is afraid of heights.”

“I’m not afraid of heights,” Levi protested. “I just have a healthy respect for them.”

“Which leaves me climbing a tree,” said Gryff. “Hold these, and give me a boost.”

She shrugged out of her pack, tac vest and jacket, then let Jason hoist her up to grab the lowest branch. It was an easy climb— the tree had evenly-spaced branches, sturdy enough to not even wobble under her weight for more than thirty feet and rough bark that kept her boots from slipping after the branches started to narrow.

“Hey!” Gryff called down, after she’d made it five feet from the top. “It’s about a mile that way!”

“What?” her team called back.

The redhead laughed and started back down. It was always a little harder going backwards, and about halfway, Gryff missed a particularly angled branch, sliding toward the trunk and rasping her knee against the bark.

“A mile that way,” she repeated, once she’d reached the ground.

“Great, sir,” said Jason. “We can— You’re hurt!”

“What?” Gryff looked down, to find a smear of something dark on her pant leg. “Huh,” she said. “Thanks, Jase, _now_ it hurts.”

Toby rooted through his pack for the first aid kit. “First aid first,” he said. “Then we’ll walk.”

She smiled. “Sure.”


	91. Waffle Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff doesn’t help her team shovel snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "waffles" & "winter" (bonus: gen/friendship genre)

“Have I mentioned that I love you guys?” Gryff said, as her three teammates came into the kitchen, already leaving puddles of melted snow on the mat. She helped them peel out of hats, scarves, gloves and jackets, hanging them around the kitchen to dry.

“We know how much you hate the cold, sir,” said Jason, bending so that she could unwind his scarf. “We don’t mind.”

“We don’t mind that you don’t come outside,” Levi corrected. “We _do_ mind having to shovel the driveway at all.”

Toby pulled off his boots hopped across the linoleum to avoid the puddles. “And Mrs. Entwhistle’s driveway,” he added. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to dig out _five_ cars from a foot and a half of snow?”

Gryff smiled. “I imagine, about as long as it takes to whip up an oven full of waffles,” she said, casually.

Three heads came up sharply. “Waffles?” Jason repeated. “Are there really waffles?”

His commanding officer laughed. “There are really waffles. And there’s another batch of batter in the fridge, in case an oven full isn’t quite enough. Go sit down,” she added, when they moved to help her. “I’ll get everything.”

Gryff set the baking sheet of waffles in the center of the table, and Toby bumped her shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “We love you, too.”

She smiled. “I know.”


	92. Hard Day's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 stop to sleep for the night on an off-world hike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "rest your weary head"

“There,” said Gryff, as the fire settled from a blaze to low burning embers, and she sat back on her bedroll to look at her team across the banked fire. “That should burn through the night.”

“We’re not taking watches, are we?” Levi asked. “We walked _all day_ , Gryff.”

She laughed, “No, Lee, no watches.”

“Good,” he sighed, and shifted until his head landed in Gryff’s lap. “I’ll share with you, okay?”

“Sure,” Gryff agreed— she was notoriously cold at night. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Yeah, we have another days’ walk tomorrow,” said Jason, and laughed as his teammates groaned.


	93. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 experience limited telepathy— and a good book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "book"

“They’re what?” asked O’Neill.

Janet frowned. “Telepathic, colonel,” she said, then added, “But only with each other.”

In unison, the members of SG-1 peered into the infirmary’s isolation room, where the members of SG-22 were sprawled over two beds, the three men apparently doing nothing while Gryff read silently from a battered paperback.

“No, don’t drop your sword!” said Levi, as Gryff turned a page. Jason and Toby both sat up, listening hard to something that no one else could hear.

“Telepathy,” said O’Neill. “And they choose to _read_?” 

Daniel shrugged. “Wish I could hear.”

“Me, too,” said Sam.

“Indeed.”


	94. Escapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 escape from a Goau’ld cell. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "capture" & "perception"

“Dammit,” muttered Jason, as the door _clanged_ shut behind the two guards who had dragged Gryff out of their cell. “I think I like it better when they make us mine naquadah.”

“ _I_ don’t,” Levi protested, then he frowned. “But I hate when Gryff gets hurt, too.”

“Sometimes, it would be easier if she didn’t have such good reasons for doing it,” put in Toby. “A little righteous indignation would make me feel better about now.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “But we have a better chance when they think she’s our weak link.”

There was silence for a long, anxious, moment, until the clank of armored footsteps sounded in the hallway, and the door opened again. Toby was closer, and managed to catch Gryff before she hit the ground.

“Hey,” she said, voice a little muffled by her split lip. “They didn’t even ask me any questions.”

“Dammit,” said Jason, again. “We’re bait, aren’t we? They’re hoping to catch the team that comes for us, probably SG-1— and _don’t_ mention that I got your _Star Wars_ reference, sir.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gryff rasped.

Toby helped her sit against the back wall. “Where are you hurt? Honesty, please.”

“Everywhere,” she admitted. “Other than the split lip, it’s really just bruises, but they used those damn Klingon pain sticks.”

“Can you move?” Toby asked, tilting her head to check for concussion.

“Yes?” she said, more question than answer. “I can walk, but I won’t be very fast.”

“But do you have a plan?” asked Levi, a little worried.

Gryff smiled. “I always have a plan.”

When the guards came back a few minutes later, they were waiting. The first Jaffa, walking into the cell presumably to grab Gryff, who was still slumped against the wall, tripped headfirst over Levi’s outstretched legs. Jason got him with a sharp blow to the back of the head as Toby attacked the second. 

“Excellent work, boys,” said Gryff, looping her arm around Levi’s shoulder as Jason and Toby collected the guards’ fallen weapons. “Let’s go.”

They were still a dozen yards from the ‘gate when the wormhole sprang to life, admitting heavily-armed SG teams one and three.

“Dial us back!” Gryff yelled, pleased to see Daniel immediately turn and begin dialing back to Earth.

“Pursuit?” asked O’Neill.

“Probably,” Gryff told him. He’d made no comment on the fact that Jason had swept her up into his arms, even as Gryff provided cover fire over the Marine’s shoulder. A staff weapon blast hit the ground nearby. “Definitely.”

“Daniel!” O’Neill yelled, and the wormhole sprang to life. “Does SG-22 _always_ have to escape before we can rescue you?”

Gryff smiled. “We’re annoying like that, sir.”


	95. On Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 go climb a mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "over the mountain"

“Are we actually going anywhere?” asked Levi, when Gryff reached a hand to pull him over a large boulder. “Or are we just wandering around the mountain? Because it’s getting dark.”

“That’s kind of the point,” said Toby. 

All four members of SG-22 were carrying packs, but they were dressed as civilians. After two weeks stuck under Cheyenne Mountain during a base-wide lockdown, they’d decided they’d like to see the top of it, and had planned a camping trip.

“Sleeping under the stars,” Levi complained. “On _Earth_.”

Jason laughed. “At least here we can make s’mores.”

“True,” agreed Levi, brightening.


	96. Try New Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff cooks SG-22 a dinner that Jason’s not too sure about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "bangers 'n' mash"

“What is it?” Jason asked, suspiciously, sitting farther back from the kitchen table than he usually did.

“You just said it smelled good,” said Gryff, still half in the fridge.

“That was before I knew it looked like this,” he protested. “Really, sir, what _is_ it?”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘ _don’t judge a book by its cover_ ’?” asked Toby. He took the ketchup bottle Gryff passed him, then the container of butter. “Or ‘ _always try new things_?”

“Hey, bangers and mash!” said Levi, as he came in the back door. “Gryff, you remembered.”

She smiled. “I always remember when you guys tell me stuff. But this was one of the meals I thought I could actually make.”

“It smells delicious,” Levi said, hanging up his coat and scarf, and heading straight for the table. “Jase, aren’t you hungry?”

“I, um…”

Gryff sat down and poured herself a glass of juice. “It’s not going to bite you, Jase. It’s just sausage and mashed potatoes, with gravy.”

“What, really?” he said, looking at his plate again. “That’s all?”

“British food just has a bad rep,” said Toby. “Don’t you remember Levi telling stories of his semester studying at Oxford, and all the weird stuff he tasted, that turned out to be good?”

“And my family lived in England a couple of years when I was tiny,” added Gryff. “I know Mom made it at least once. I called her up to make sure I was cooking it right.”

Jason smiled and took a bite. “Hey, that’s good!” he said, and his team laughed.


	97. Example of Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Gryff has to let herself be the target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt _I bend, but don’t break/ Somehow I’ll get through/ ‘Cause I have you_ (“Crawl (Carry Me Through)” by Superchick)

The first blow had broken Gryff’s nose, and she’d sort of lost count after that.

Logically, she knew that letting the Jaffa guards beat the snot out of her was the best course of action at this point— she’d had a long conversation with Teal’c about Jaffa strategies and their prejudices against humans, which had all led her to conclude that if she were injured and/or incapacitated, the guards would underestimate the rest of her team enough to let them escape— but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

As far as she could tell, it was purely so she could serve as an example to the other prisoners. The guards never asked her any questions, even when they knew she was one of the Tau’ri, and they always timed it so they returned her when there were plenty of spectators.

Fortunately for Gryff, that meant her team was there to catch her, familiar hands unerringly finding the least-painful places to grab her and hold on tight. This time was bad, she could feel it with every ragged breath, but she could also feel Toby’s heartbeat as she leaned against his chest, Jason’s gentle fingers as he checked her for injuries, Levi’s firm grip on the fabric at her knee.

She’d give herself a few minutes to soak up their concern, to let them fuss over her, before they got down to plotting. She’d need her strength to get her boys back home safely.


	98. Comfort Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Gryff’s turn to make dinner, but she’s not quite up to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (write about food/cooking)

“Whose turn is it to make dinner?” Gryff asked, tiredly, as she unlocked the back door and let them into the dark kitchen.

“Yours, sir,” said Jason, flicking on the lights. “Means you get to pick.”

“Do we even have any food?” she asked. 

Levi went to check their refrigerator, while Toby grabbed her coat sleeve before she could aggravate her bruised ribs getting herself out of it.

“Not much,” the sociologist reported.

“We got any bread?” asked Gryff. “Cheese?”

“Yes… to both,” said Levi. “And there’s condensed tomato soup in the cupboard.”

The redhead grinned at him. “You know me so well. Okay, boys, let me grab the skillet and we can get—”

“ _You_ are going to sit down and stay there,” said Toby. “I will not be subjected to another of Doc Fraiser’s lectures on taking proper care of injuries, because you can’t sit still.”

“But it’s my turn to cook,” she protested.

Jason plopped a loaf of bread and the tub of margarine on the table in front of her. “Plenty you can do sitting down, sir.”

“Soup’s already in the microwave, Gryff,” added Levi. “Better get buttering.”

She smiled and opened the bread bag. By the time she’d buttered the first two pieces, Jason had the frying pan up to temperature, and Levi was ladling tomato soup into bowls at the table. Hot soup and melting cheese did more to ease the tension in Gryff’s shoulders than the painkillers Janet had prescribed, and after her team had turned the entire loaf into grilled cheese sandwiches, she was more than happy to stay put while Levi washed the dishes.

“One more dose, then bed,” said Toby. 

He held out two white pills and a glass of water, which Gryff took. “You guys are awesome,” she said.

Her team smiled back at her. “That’s just the drugs talking, sir,” said Jason, as they all headed upstairs for some much-needed sleep.


	99. Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought we had an arrangement. Where we’re honest with each other about injuries sustained in the field.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (TV Tropes - [Secret Stab Wound](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SecretStabWound))

“You,” said Toby, as soon as Gryff regained consciousness in the SGC infirmary, “are in big trouble.”

She blinked at him. “Isn’t that some kind of insubordination?”

He scowled. “I’m serious, Gryff. You collapsed on the ‘gate ramp. _Again_. Bleeding profusely.”

“I… Sorry?” she offered.

“You were stabbed!” said Levi. “And you didn’t say anything!”

“I thought we had an arrangement, sir,” added Jason. “Where we’re honest with each other about injuries sustained in the field.”

“We did,” Gryff protested. “We do. I just—”

She tried to sit up, but fell back, wincing.

“You lost a lot of blood, Gryff,” said Levi, softly. “You just… fell, pale as a ghost, the minute the wormhole closed behind us, and we thought…”

The redhead reached out to catch his hand. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, more sincerely. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you guys, I promise. But it happened just as we were breaking for the ‘gate, and between the adrenaline and actively trying not to die, I just didn’t have a chance. I honestly thought I’d be okay until I got to the infirmary.”

“Of course you did,” said Toby, managing a smile. 

“Nobody else was hurt though, right?” Gryff asked. She looked around at them, cataloging the bruise on Levi’s arm, the cut across Jason’s cheek, the swelling around Toby’s eye. “You’re all okay?”

“We’re all fine,” Toby assured her. “And Doc Fraiser says you’re going to be fine, too. Didn’t even need any stitches this time.”

“ _This time_ ,” Jason repeated.

Gryff nodded. “I don’t _try_ to get stabbed, you know,” she said. “It just… happens.”

“We know, sir,” said Jason, patting her ankle. “We know.”


	100. Hate/Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If it weren’t for you, I’d be nice and safe in an office somewhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt " _10 Things I Hate About You_ (1999)"

“I hate you,” said Levi, hauling another load of naquadah ore into the cart.

Gryff was right behind him. “I know.”

“I’m serious this time.”

“I know you are.”

“I’m an academic, Gryff,” continued Levi. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be nice and safe in an office somewhere.”

“That’s probably true,” she agreed.

“You dragged me out here into this… whole stupid galaxy.”

“Yep.”

“Made me part of your stupid team.”

“Yes, I did.”

Levi sighed, and dumped another load of ore into the container. “You know I love you, right, Gryff?”

She bumped his shoulder, smiling. “I know.”


	101. Dark Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff and Levi patrol in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.” (Helen Keller)

It was very, very dark on P9X-1112. The weather was usually overcast and its moon was about half the size of Earth’s, so when the sun set, the only light for miles around was the glow of SG-22’s campfire.

SGs 7, 9 and 14 had all been there before, passing through, but lucky 22 had been assigned to do a more long-range, long-term survey of the planet as a possible Alpha Site. All previous reports indicated that it was uninhabited, without even any large animal species, and so far, they were proving to be correct. SG-22 was taking environmental readings, just to make sure staying there wasn’t detrimental to a human’s health, and other than the darkness, it looked very promising.

“One last patrol before bed,” announced Gryff, standing from her log by the campfire. “Levi, you’re up.”

“Right behind you,” he said.

They made a long circuit of the campsite, far enough out that the fire was only a dim glow and the lights on their P90s created tiny pockets of illumination. Levi had never been very fond of the dark – not scared of it, not exactly, but he’d always been the first to turn on the lights when he could – but even with the almost-absolute darkness around them, he didn’t feel worried, with Gryff walking along beside him.

Finally, they finished their loop, and came back toward their campsite. 

“Coffee?” asked Toby, holding up their battered pitcher.

Levi grinned. “Sounds great.”


	102. Unbecoming Conduct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gunnery Sergeant Vicks falls down on the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "tripping"

“A sprained ankle, huh?” asked Gryff, pausing at the end of the infirmary bed.

Jason looked sheepishly up at her. “Yes, sir.”

“We have survived weeks of forced labor in Goa’uld naquadah mines,” she said. “We’ve been shot at, blown up, thrown in jail and down mountains and you, Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks, US Marine… sprained your ankle falling down the stairs from the briefing room.”

“You say that like you weren’t the one who found me and hauled me in for x-rays,” he said, smiling.

“Down the stairs, I tell you,” Gryff continued. “I’d expect this kind of behavior from Levi, but you?”

“Hey, I resent that,” said Levi, joining them, but he was smiling. “How do you feel, Jase?”

“Like I sprained my ankle and want to go home,” he said.

Gryff patted his good ankle. “Toby’s bringing the car around,” she said.

He grinned. “Thank you, sir.”


	103. Christmas (and Chanukah) in June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know what we need? Christmas cookies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "sugar-coated"

“You know what we need?” said Toby, one random day in June. “Christmas cookies.”

His teammates all blinked at him for a moment, then Gryff said, “Okay. What kind?”

They each picked one type and made their grocery list, then spread their ingredients out on the kitchen table.

“Okay,” said Gryff, in the same tone she used for giving orders in the field, “Levi and I will measure ingredients. Toby, you’re our engineer, you’re on the mixer. Then Lee and I again for rolling and/or cutting. And Jason, you’re in charge of the oven.”

“Right,” said Toby. “Can we do the snickerdoodles first?”

They worked just as well in the kitchen as they did off-world, moving seamlessly around each other, often without needing any words. In only a couple of hours, they had covered every flat surface in the kitchen and living room with tea towels full of cooling cookies.

Levi was snacking on a few of the chocolate kisses from Gryff’s peanut butter cookies, as he rolled balls of sugar cookie dough in red-and-green and white-and-blue sugar.

“Oh, hey, Chanukah cookies!” said Toby. He’d started washing dishes when the last batch of dough had been mixed, and hadn’t been paying attention to the rest of the process. “Nice.”

“Adds a bit of color,” said Levi.

“You know what we need to go with all of these, sir?” asked Jason, cheeks flushed pink from leaning over the oven all afternoon. “Ice cream.”

The rest of SG-22 beamed at him.

“I like the way you think, Jase,” said Gryff, and went to get them some bowls.


	104. Pushing Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryff is wounded, but still rescues her team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "broken & bloody"

Every inch of her hurt.

Gryff had always thought that was just an expression, a hyperbole, but now she knew it was absolutely true. Her head throbbed, her muscles ached and even her eyelashes felt a little sore.

She blinked and found that only one eye opened properly. Gryff remembered a blow to the head just as she passed out, so she must have been out long enough for her left eye to swell almost shut. Her nose seemed to be broken, it the low whistle with every breath was any indication, which was probably also the source of the blood she could taste.

It was fairly dark, but as her good eye adjusted, Gryff could see that she was in a stone tunnel, just like the rest of the naquadah mine where they’d been for the last week. She couldn’t hear any movement – either active mining or guard patrols – so she must been dumped in an unused corner someplace.

Gryff took a long steadying breath and sat up.

Her ribs protested immediately, the ache ratcheting up to a throb as the pounding in her head spiked and leveled out again. Without thinking, she brought both hands up to her temples, and barely suppressed a yelp as a flair of pain radiated up her left arm. She’d thought that the initial lack of pain meant she hadn’t broken anything, but sitting up had apparently opened the half-formed scab over a deep gash on her forearm.

Swearing under her breath, Gryff fumbled in her pockets for a handkerchief and pressed over the wound. That seemed to be her only major injury, so Gryff tied the makeshift bandage in place and got shakily to her feet. She swayed, dangerously light-headed, and grabbed the wall for support.

The floor where she’d been lying had an alarmingly large smear of blood – between her nose and her arm, she had clearly lost more than a human person really had to spare if she was planning any kind of heroics, but there wasn’t much she could do about that now.

Gryff carefully pushed away from the wall, moving slowly until she was sure she could keep her feet under her. The chamber she was in lead to an equally-empty corridor. She’d always been pretty good at mazes, so she chose to turn left and continue on. Each new tunnel was also deserted – until Gryff heard clanking footsteps and ducked out of sight.

Peering around the corner, she saw two armored Jaffa guards go into a side chamber and come out again without most of their armor or their staff weapons.

_Score_ , thought Gryff, _The armory_ , and waited until they were gone before she darted inside.

There was no sign of any Earth-made equipment, so she helped herself to two zat guns, which fit into the cargo pockets of her BDU pants, and a staff weapon, which did not. Energy weapons instead of projectiles were probably a good idea in small spaces like in a naquadah mine, but she did wish she’d been able to find a radio or a GDO.

It was a fairly small mining operation/prison camp, so Gryff wasn’t surprised not to see any more guards as she crept through the empty corridors. The third doorway that she cautiously approached turned out to be a medium-sized carved chamber. A large Jaffa – Hecate’s new First Prime – stood with his back to her, while half-a-dozen more guards held their staff weapons trained on three familiar figures.

Gryff weighed her options. She had the element of surprise, but also all of the weapons currently in human hands. With her arm injured, she’d never be able to toss the ‘zat guns to her teammates, but she also didn’t like the odds of starting anything with the rest of them unarmed.

She smiled as an idea came to her.

It was tricky, getting both zats out of her pocket and onto the ground without making any noise. She almost didn’t make it back upright again and had to lean heavily on her stolen staff weapon for several long moments before her head stopped spinning. Then, she straightened, took as deep a breath as she could, and stepped out into the open.

“Fire in the hole!” Gryff yelled.

The First Prime whirled and she fired, catching him square in the chest, as she simultaneously kicked the two zat guns into the room.

Toby and Jason had reacted immediately to her shout, pulling Levi out of the way of retaliatory fire from the guards. Jason caught one of the zats as it skittered past, downing two Jaffa then handing it to Levi and snatching up a fallen staff weapon. Toby ducked a shot from another guard and dived for the second zat. He rolled to his feet and stunned two more of the Jaffa, as Gryff managed to raise her staff weapon again and took out the last guard.

There was a long moment of silence.

“Gryff?” said Toby.

“Hello, boys,” she said, and promptly collapsed.

“Hey!”

They’d been too far away to actually catch her, but Toby helped her sit up again. “How bad is it?”

Gryff considered. “Busted nose,” she said. “Cut on my arm. Ribs are… sore, maybe broken, but I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Can you walk?”

“Think so,” said Gryff. “Maybe not alone.”

“We can work with that, sir,” said Jason. “They’ve been clearing this place out. The lieutenant and I can probably handle the few guards that are left.”

“Okay,” she said. “Toby, you take point. Levi, with me. Jason…”

He picked up her stolen staff weapon, and grinned. “I’m on it, sir.”

Gryff grinned back and let Levi help her up. “Okay, boys. Let’s go home.”


	105. Music Alone Shall Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "singing"

“I can’t believe it,” Daniel said, faintly. “We’ve been trying to contact the Mulai for weeks, and you four manage it with _Girl Scout campfire songs_?”

The members of SG-22 looked at each other, then back at him. “They really like music,” offered Jason.

“They avoided SG-3 because they were Marines,” Gryff said. “Not that they knew what Marines are, specifically, but the Mulai could recognize them as warriors. But when they realized that there were also musicians and scholars who wore our uniforms, they… came and said hi.”

“I can’t _believe_ it,” repeated Daniel.

Hammond smiled. “Good work, SG-22.”


	106. Light My Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We need some dry kindling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "fire & rain"

“No, a little more to the left,” said Gryff.

Jason, holding one end of the poncho over the mouth of the tiny cave, scowled at her. “I thought you said a fire would burn even in the rain, sir.”

“It will,” she replied. “ _After_ we get it lit. Now, a little higher.”

Toby lifted the other side of the poncho. “Any luck?”

“I—” Gryff began, then sighed. “No. We need some dry kindling.”

“Like paper?” asked Levi, offering his notebook.

She crumpled a page into the fire and watched it light, catching the damp wood a moment later.

“Perfect.”


	107. Seventh Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 spend a week on an uneventful planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "walk in the woods"

“There is nothing on this planet,” said Levi, sounding a little out of breath.

It was SG-22’s seventh day on P9X-7441, nearly at the end of their exploratory mission. They’d arrived at local dawn the first day, and walked toward that planet’s magnetic north until dusk – about five miles from the gate – then walked back the next day, starting over the next morning in the opposite direction, then east and west. They kept a moderate pace, on the lookout for dangers or treasures.

The planet was fairly wooded, so the UAV had mostly sent back images of leafy treetops. It was late spring and the trees were full, the bushes and other plants were in bloom, and the temperature was just pleasant enough for them all to pull off their jackets.

And, so far, Levi was right.

They had seen traces of animals – birds and small mammals, most likely, from the noises, like walking through any forest on Earth. When the sun went down, about twenty-three Earth hours after local dawn, they’d pitched their camp and set a watch. Nothing had attacked them in the night, and they hadn’t encountered anything on the walk back that wasn’t just like what they’d seen on the way out. All of which gave this world good marks as a potential Alpha Site.

But the last direction they’d walked had been mostly uphill, through uneven rocky ground, and after a week of nothing but walking and sleeping outside, Levi was beginning to lose his cool.

“Just a little farther, Lee,” said Gryff, reassuringly. “And tomorrow night, we’ll be back home in our own beds.”

“Yeah,” added Jason. “It’s my turn to cook the next night, but I didn’t have anything planned. Any suggestions?”

“Ooh,” said Levi. “Is it still nice enough out at home to use the grill?”

“I think so,” Toby said. “It was supposed to be nice all this week.”

“Good,” said Levi. “I have a few ideas…”

Gryff smiled at her team, then resettled the straps of her pack. “C’mon, boys, let’s pick up the pace.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.


	108. Not OSHA COmpliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 are, as usual, less than enthusiastic about Gryff’s plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt “Don’t loo k at me like that! That’s not even a smile, just a bunch of teeth playing with my mind!” (Faceman Peck, _The A-Team_ )

“I’ve got an idea,” said Gryff, smiling, and her teammates all groaned. “What?”

“I know that smile,” Toby complained. “That smile is nothing but trouble.”

“More trouble than thirteen days’ forced labor in a naquadah mine?” she countered.

Jason leaned on his shovel. “Can we get back to you on that, sir?”

“No, I’m with Gryff on this one,” said Levi, wearily. “Let’s just get on with whatever shenanigans she’s got planned, so we can go home.”

“Shenanigans?” Gryff repeated, mock-offended.

“We’re all a little too tired to be impressed with your cleverness,” said Toby. “But we promise to be properly impressed later, when we’ve all had some sleep.”

“Absolutely, sir,” added Jason. “So, what’s the plan? And how much will it hurt?”

“You boys just need to be more careful when you start a riot,” she said.

“Silence!” roared a Jaffa guard.

Gryff stuck her shovel into the ground. “The union mandates a fifteen-minute break for every four hours of work!” she called after him.

“Impudence will be punished, human,” the guard said. “Now, _work_!”

“And we’re going to need to see your OSHA certification,” Gryff continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “This isn’t even _close_ to proper protective equipment and I for one—”

She was cut off by the butt of a staff weapon to the ribs. “Work!” the guard roared again, and left.

Toby snagged his CO by the elbow and towed her back to the section they were working. “So, boss, the plan?”

Gryff grinned again and took her shovel when he held it out to her. “Okay, boys, here’s what we’re going to do…”


	109. Card Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SG-22 has a code. They were bored one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "card-carrying"

“You are right to trust slowly, colonel,” said Elmar. “Young Lukin will have brought a token from your Major Carter, to prove that she and the rest of your party are safe.”

“The token is not from her,” said the boy, Lukin. “The token is from Sergeant Vicks, for his captain.”

“Well, that’s her,” said O’Neill, pointing to Gryff. “What’s the token?”

The kid held out a small rectangle of cardboard, looking confused. Gryff turned it over and smiled. “Yep, this is definitely from Jason.”

O’Neill frowned. “It’s a playing card. Gryff, we lose a couple dozen of those a year.”

“Ours are different.” She held it up to show him the face of the Queen of Spades, with the Marine Corps logo on the back. “This card specifically means that it’s from Jason, to me. We have a code.”

“You have a code?” O’Neill repeated.

Toby shrugged. “We were bored one night, sir.”

( _…several months ago…_ )

“That thing last week, sir,” said Jason, as SG-22 sat around their campfire, watching an alien sun set. “What made you think to send that? I’d have bet real money that that kid on P3X-1734 was a trap if you hadn’t sent him with that bundle.”

The residents of P3X-1734 were nomadic, which was why SG-1, SG-7 and SG-16 hadn’t encountered them during their missions to the planet. SG-22 had been on-world almost a week without spotting them, either, and had gotten a bit relaxed about their security – Gryff had stayed at their campsite alone while the three boys went to collect soil samples, and the nomads had come from the other direction to find her. Fortunately, they were friendly, but _unfortunately_ their caravan was fleeing a huge wildfire that was headed in the exact direction of the rest of her team.

It was a pretty crappy time to find out that some kind of mineral in the mountains blocked their radio signal, but one of the locals, a teenager who claimed he was a fast runner, offered to go and warn them.

Gryff had rummaged through her tac vest, tugged a button from her jacket, wrapped a few strands of her own hair around it, then tied both up in one of the handkerchiefs she always carried – her team would know that only she would send something like that, and they’d come running back, in time to help evacuate the natives back through the gate.

“I didn’t have time for a note,” she said, shrugging. “I thought of the handkerchief, but I added the other things so you’d know it was my idea.”

“It worked,” said Toby, checking on the coffee pot nestled in their fire. “But it’s really not a trick we can just keep using. I mean, you’ll hopefully run out of buttons and handkerchiefs before you run out of hair, but…”

“Hopefully,” Gryff agreed. She swapped the cookies from her MRE for the brownie from Levi’s, then passed her mashed potatoes to Jason in trade for his sliced carrots. “But we could still have some kind of signal like that.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Levi said, “What about playing cards?”

He rummaged in his tac vest a pulled out a brand-new pack. Each member of SG-22 had gotten a deck of cards in their Christmas stockings the month before, a present from Gryff’s mother who knew they went on missions that often included overnight campouts and down-time, but not that these missions took place on alien worlds. The back of Levi’s cards had the seal of Stanford University, where he’d gotten his undergrad and PhD. Jason’s had the Marine Corps emblem on the back, and the two officers both had the Air Force insignia on theirs – on a blue background for Gryff, on white for Toby.

Jason pulled out his own pack. “Specific cards, even,” he said. “Say I want to send a message to _you_ , sir. I’d give somebody the Queen of Spades.”

“Queen of Spades?” Gryff repeated.

He grinned. “Because you’re so good at making us dig for naquadah.”

“Quiet, you,” she said, but couldn’t help a smile of her own. “Who else?”

“Hmm,” said Jason, fanning out the cards in both hands. “For the lieutenant, the Jack of Clubs. Because there’s not suit for hammers and wrenches.”

“I like it,” said Toby. “What about Levi?”

“Ace of Diamonds,” Jason decided. “Because he’s our only civilian. And he’s so special.”

“Well,” said Gryff. “You’re our only Marine. Does that make you the Ace of Hearts?”

“Nah,” he laughed. “Only officers are face cards. I’ll be the ten.”

The redhead nodded. “That’s settled, then. If you want to send an all’s well message and/or vouch for the messenger, send each person their card from your desk. If you’re in trouble or it’s a trap, send your own card.”

“Got it,” said Levi.

(… _Now_ …)

“You were bored,” O’Neill repeated, then snorted. “You have the weirdest team, Gryff.”

She grinned. “Thank you, sir. But now we know that Sam has fixed the thing that was spitting lightning everywhere and it’s safe to come out.”

Daniel frowned. “Do we know that?”

“If Jason meant there was still trouble, he’d have sent the Ten of Hearts,” explained Toby.

“Weirdest team,” O’Neill repeated, then turned toward the kid. “Okay, ‘young Lukin’, take us to the rest of our people.”

The boy nodded. “This way…”


	110. Reporting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visiting general questions Jason about SG-22.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "unbreakable bonds" & “ _For Kate, no common love will feel/ My woman-soldier, gallant Kate/ As pure and true as blades of steel_ ” (“Kate” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson) (with a bonus for original characters)

“General Atwell, sir?” said Jason, pausing on the doorway of Hammond’s office.

The visiting general waved him in. “At ease, son. This is an informal interview.”

Jason relaxed a little, “Yes, sir.”

Atwell was perhaps a little older than Hammond, with a head of white hair and a no-nonsense air about him. Jason waited, not quite at ease, until he spoke again, “For the record, state your name, rank and current assignment.”

“Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks, US Marine Corps,” he said. “Currently assigned to SG-22.”

“Twenty-two,” the general repeated. “That’s Captain Gryff-idd’s command, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jason, then, “And if I may, sir? It’s pronounced Griff-ith.”

“I see.” Atwell’s tone was even, revealing nothing. “And the other members of your team?”

“First Lieutenant Walter Tobias and Dr. Levi Flannigan.”

“An Air Force officer and a civilian consultant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“SG-22 is not a first-contact team, is that correct, sergeant?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason repeated. “We’re primarily assigned to surveying and reconnaissance missions, after another team has done the initial contact.”

The general nodded. “Yes, so your records indicate. But they also indicated that you and your team are regularly captured and imprisoned by enemy forces. And from the looks of Captain Gryffydd’s medical records, that seems to be a problem.”

“With respect, sir,” said Jason, “you should read the rest of our records, as well. Almost any time the captain was injured on a mission was because she was preventing _us_ from getting hurt. And we have always been able to escape our situations, usually bringing valuable intelligence, equipment and personnel back with us.”

“I see,” said Atwell. He shuffled some papers around on Hammond’s desk. “Sergeant, were you aware that Captain Gryffydd is the only female SG-team leader?”

“I was aware, sir, but I’ve never considered it relevant.”

“Haven’t you?” the general asked. “Stargate Command is an unusual situation. The United States armed forces don’t officially allow women in combat positions, but this entire program is so classified that certain allowances have had to be made. Your team is not technically a combat team, but you regularly face enemy forces. Do you ever feel that having a female commanding officer is a risk in the field?”

“No, sir,” said Jason.

“No? Women make fine officers, son, I’m not debating that. Captain Gryffydd has a good head on her shoulders, your mission reports show she makes good decisions, based on what you’ve got. But in a firefight, with help literally millions of miles away, things are different. If you found yourself injured on an off-world mission, would she be able to get you back to Earth?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jason.

Atwell looked surprised. “That was a very quick response, sergeant,” he said. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s already happened, sir. The captain and I were caught in an explosion, off-world, and I was knocked unconscious. Despite being injured herself, she made a travois to drag me back to the ‘gate.”

“A travois?” the general repeated.

“Yes, sir. It was two staff weapons, with an emergency blanket. The captain tied it to her tac vest, towed me right back to Earth. She’s smart like that, always coming up with ways to get us out of trouble. Even if she gets hurt doing them.”

“I see,” said Atwell.

Jason took a deep breath. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” the general said.

“Sir, Captain Gryffydd is the best commanding officer I’ve ever had. I would follow her to hell if she asked – and if you’ve read SG-1’s reports, you know that’s not an exaggeration. If you think she’s a liability to our team, or the program, or this _planet_ , then you’re mistaken, sir. She is one of the greatest assets we have.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, the general smiled. “Sergeant, I was hoping you’d say that.”

Jason frowned. “Sir?”

“I did read all of your team’s records, but I needed to be sure they were an accurate depiction of what’s going on here. I’ll be honest, son, I’m an old-fashioned military man – I’m not used to evaluating women in combat, or units of mixed Air Force, Marines and civilians. Your team is the only off-world unit lead by a woman and the only one with your particular make-up. If there _was_ a problem, it would likely turn up there. Your answer is very reassuring, son.”

“Um, thank you, sir,” said Jason.

“Thank you, sergeant.” Atwell smiled. “Dismissed, sergeant. Go back to your team.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jason, with a salute.

The rest of SG-22 were waiting at the bottom of the stairs to the upper level, and immediately surrounded him. “Well?” 

Jason smiled. “The general’s on our side.”


	111. Girl Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a joint mission with SG-1, Gryff and Sam encounter a few obstacles off-world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "lipstick" & "stargate sg-1"

“Is this usually how your missions turn out?” asked Gryff, staring at the huge stone door that had slammed shut behind them.

Sam Carter snorted. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Getting jumped as soon as we come through the ‘gate is about one-in-three,” Gryff said. “But the giant labyrinth is new.”

“It is impressive,” agreed Sam.

The walls were at least nine feet tall, made of smooth stone, maybe marble. There were three openings they could see, each as uninviting as the next.

“And we should assume it’s booby-trapped,” said Gryff. “The guard said if we made it to the other side, we’d live – very strongly insinuating that there were a few things along the way that would cause us _not_ to live.”

Sam nodded. “We’d cover more ground if we split up, but we’d have better odds with any traps together. And less chance of trying the same path twice.”

“That, I can help with,” said Gryff. The Jaffa had confiscated their weapons, but left them with their tac vests, and she rummaged around in a small side pocket. “Here we go.”

She held up a tube of lipstick, and Sam frowned. “Didn’t take you for a make-up kind of girl, Gryff.”

The redhead laughed. “Oh, this is totally not my shade. What this _is_ is a great way to leave marks on stone. And lipstick doesn’t usually get confiscated as a weapon.”

“No, I guess not,” Sam said.

“Plus, I’m really good at mazes,” added Gryff. “Mind if I take the lead, major?”

“After you, captain.”

Gryff uncapped her lipstick and drew an arrow on the wall of the far-left opening. “This way…”

It was a talent Gryff had always had and could never really explain, being able to navigate mazes and forests without encountering too many dangers or dead ends. She marked each turn with a lipstick arrow, and the two women proceeded cautiously.

Down several long corridors, they came across what were more obstacles than booby-traps – narrow spans above seemingly-bottomless chasms, jagged rocks that had to be climbed, spinning wooden waterwheel-looking things to be negotiated – and several could only be cleared by working together. Gryff was good at squeezing into tight spaces, and the several inches of height Sam had on her came in handy several times.

At last, they emerged from the narrow corridor to a wide chamber.

“Oh, I don’t like this at all,” said Sam.

“Yep,” agreed Gryff, “this is gonna end badly.”

“So… sneaky, or make a run for it?”

The redhead considered – then paused. “Wait. Do you see the pattern on the floor?”

“Pattern?” Sam repeated, then grinned. “Yes, I do. Follow me, captain.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sam took a deep breath and jumped onto the nearest patterned tile. Immediately, projectiles shot from indentations in the wall – darts or tiny arrows, it was too hard to tell – just missing the space where Sam stood.

“There’s a pattern!” Sam said. “Each design points to the next.”

“Right behind you,” called Gryff.

There was a pause in the launch of arrows and Gryff jumped, landing neatly on the square as Sam landed on the next. Again, the darts whistled past, just behind where both of them were standing, thudding into the opposite wall. Sam moved to the next tile, then the next, with Gryff right behind. The redhead wobbled on the fourth stone and felt a dart narrowly graze her ear.

Finally, Sam reached the other side and crouched by the door, away from the last spray of arrows as Gryff dropped to one knee beside her. “So, that was fun,” said Gryff.

Sam laughed, and clapped her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

The door on the far side of the labyrinth opened out onto the forest, but they’d barely walked a dozen meters when they spotted the rest of SG-1 and SG-22.

“Sir!” said Jason, grinning. “You’re okay!

O’Neill rested both hands on his weapon. “Hey, Carter, where you gals been?”

Sam smiled back. “Oh, you know, sir. A little make-up, a little dancing…”

“Girls stuff,” added Gryff.

“Well, you can tell us all about it on the way home,” said O’Neill.


End file.
